Runaway
by LittleFairy78
Summary: This might become Shawn's most difficult case yet. His client is young, breaks into the Psych office, has a tendency to vanish, oh, and the police are after him, too. What's Shawn supposed to do if he's the only one to believe the boy? Angsty, whumpy...:D
1. Prologue: All my bags are packed

Normally, clients don't show up at the Psych office in the middle of the night.

Normally, clients aren't searching the office for food.

Normally, clients at the Psych office are of age.

And normally, clients don't bring along that much trouble.

But this client is different, and the case might just become the most taxing case our favourite psychic has yet had to deal with. Because he's not exactly working _with _the police on this one. On the contrary, the SBPD would very much like to talk to Shawn's client themselves, thank you very much. If only Shawn would tell them where he was...

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

The title of the prologue is the first line from the John Denver song "Leaving on a Jet Plane". I don't own that song, either.

**Runaway**

**Prologue: All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go**

Santa Barbara, 1987, the Guster residence

It was after dinner, and ten year old Burton Guster climbed up into his tree house in the back garden to read another comic before his mother would call him down for bedtime. He pulled himself up on the rope-ladder, then started rummaging around in search of his flashlight. It wasn't entirely dark yet, but the tree house only had one window, and that was covered by the greenery, making it eerily dark in here even though there was still some light outside.

His fingers didn't close around the flashlight as he had expected, and with a frown Gus started to systematically search the floor. Sometimes it rolled off, the floor of the tree house wasn't totally even, but Gus always took great care to place it somewhere where it wouldn't roll out the door and fall down.

But the flashlight wasn't there, so maybe this time he hadn't taken enough care and it was gone.

"Darn", he muttered under his breath.

"I should tell your Mom to wash out your mouth with soap", a quiet voice said from the dark corner ahead of him. Gus started, badly, nearly falling back out of the door in the process. He grabbed the side of the tree house for support and angrily started crawling over towards the voice.

"Shawn you idiot! Do you want me to fall out?"

There was a low click, then the beam of the flashlight shone, illuminating Shawn's face from his chin up. "It's not my fault that you're so easily scared. Besides, I told you time and again that you need to set some traps up here. Just about anybody can come in here and climb in."

Gus knew that, but the only one who ever did come up here uninvited was Shawn, anyway.

"What are you doing here?"

Wordlessly, Shawn swung the flashlight around in a small arc, illuminating the backpack that was lying next to him. It wasn't tied, and in the short flash of light Gus could just about make out a bag of Cheerios, some clothes and Shawn's favourite remote controlled car stuffed into it.

"What's that supposed to mean, Shawn? You're running away?"

Shawn nodded, and with a sigh Gus sank down to sit beside his friend.

"What happened?"

Shawn nervously started picking a thread on his sweater. "I just can't stay there anymore, Gus."

"What happened?", Gus pressed again.

Shawn shrugged. "He's always on my case. Always complaining, always telling me that I could do things better. Always. Whatever I do, it just isn't good enough. He's trying to ruin my life, and I won't let him. And now he's grounded me again, for absolutely nothing. Just because I didn't do what he wanted me to do."

"Like your homework?", Gus asked with a frown. It wasn't the first time that he had heard his friend say those words, but it was the first time that Shawn had acted upon his threat.

"No, not the stupid homework. I told him I wouldn't play his stupid games anymore. _How many hats are in the room?_ Really. I told him I didn't want to become a darn cop like him, he yelled at me for cursing and told me I was too young to know what's good for me, I yelled back, he grounded me." Shawn shrugged. "Pretty much like that."

Gus knew better than to pry further. He knew Shawn well enough to know that there was more to this story. Probably a lot more cursing had been involved which had been the main reason for his friend getting grounded. But that wasn't important right now. He needed to talk Shawn out of the stupid idea of running away, and quickly at that. Before he got into any more trouble.

"Shawn, that wasn't the first time the two of you fought like that, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"It will, because I'm not going back!"

Gus sighed. "And what do you want to do?"

Shawn shrugged again. "I don't know. Get away from here. Find another place to stay."

"Really? And where would that be? You're ten years old, Shawn. You can't get a job, or an apartment. And if people find out that you're alone, they're going to figure out who you are and send you back. Your Dad is a cop, Shawn, he's going to find you. It's not going to work. Or do you want to stay up here? Because I can tell you that this is the first place your father will come looking for you."

Shawn sighed dejectedly. "I know. I just needed some time to think this through. And I couldn't grab any food from home, only the Cheerios I still had stashed away in my room. Do you think you can get me something?"

"Yes. But still your Dad is going to come searching for you. And then he is going to come here and question me. And you know that I cannot lie to your father."

"Don't worry about that, Gus. I can't ask you to lie for me, and by the time he realises that I left, I'll be long gone."

Gus thought for a moment, then sighed again. "All right, there should be some leftover chicken from dinner. I could get you that, and some sandwiches. But it might take a moment, I need to make sure that my Mom isn't around.

In the dim light of the flashlight, Gus saw Shawn smile at him. "Thanks mate. As soon as I've found a place, I'll let you know where I am."

Gus still wasn't convinced that his friend's idea would work out, but Shawn was his friend and he'd not leave him alone. If Shawn needed help, then Gus would help, it was as simple as that.

"I'll be back as soon as I've got the food."

Shawn nodded and Gus climbed back down the ladder. Silently, he snuck back into the house through the back door, glad to find the kitchen empty. But just as he opened up the refrigerator, his mother's voice interrupted him.

"Gus, we've just eaten dinner."

Gus spun around and slammed the fridge door shut. "Erm…yes. I know. I just…you know, wanted to get…some milk. Yes, milk. Just a glass of milk."

Mrs. Guster watched her son with a raised eyebrow. Gus knew that look, and he knew it didn't bode well. His mother didn't believe him. Just great.

"Do you know where Shawn is?"

Gus' breath caught in his throat. How could she know? "Erm…no. It's late, he should be home. Why do you ask?"

"Henry just called. It seems that Shawn ran away, so naturally, his first step was to ask if you had seen him."

"No, I haven't", Gus said quickly. Too quickly.

"Burton, I want you to tell me the truth."

Oh-oh. Use of full first name meant he was in deep trouble if he didn't answer now. But Shawn would probably be in worse trouble if Gus told on him. He could take some trouble, but he didn't know if Shawn could take any additional problems. So Gus averted his eyes, stared down at the kitchen tiles and shook his head.

"Burton!"

Gus only shook his head again. With a sigh, his mother crouched down in front of him so that she was at her son's eye level. "Gus", she started again, softer this time. "It honours you that you want to stick up for Shawn, but if he's out there alone he'll get into trouble. It's too dangerous for a ten year old to be out there alone. You don't want Shawn to get hurt, do you?"

Of course Gus didn't want that. But he also didn't want him to be as unhappy as he had been during the past days. And he didn't want him to get into trouble with his father. And if he told on Shawn now, trouble for him would be a sure consequence.

"Gus, why aren't you telling me what you know?"

"Because then you're going to send Shawn back. And his Dad will get mad, and he'll be in trouble, and his father will yell at him and ground him forever, and then Shawn will only run away again!"

Mrs. Guster sighed and pulled up two chairs. Sitting down in one, she gestured for Gus to take the other.

"Listen to me, Gus. Of course Henry isn't excited that Shawn ran away. Because he's worried about him. And I can't promise that Shawn won't get into any additional trouble because frankly, I think he will. But that's a part of growing up, Gus. He has to learn to face the consequences of what he's doing."

Gus drew a breath to say something, but his mother interrupted him before he had the chance to say a word.

"No, Gus. It honours you that you want to help and defend Shawn, but believe me, facing Henry right now is the preferable alternative to spending a night out on the streets. And I'm fairly sure that Henry was worried enough so that he'll try to figure out why Shawn wanted to run away instead of merely punishing him for it."

At that moment, there was a knock on the front door. Mrs. Guster got up from her chair and Gus looked at his mother with pure betrayal in his eyes.

"That's him", he hissed.

His mother nodded. "Yes, of course it's him. Gus, he's worried about Shawn, he's only trying to find him before something happens." She turned towards the hallway. "Door is open, come in!"

The front door opened and Henry Spencer came walking towards them through the hall. It was unusual for Gus to see his best friend's father not in uniform, but in a simple pair of jeans and a blue sweater. He came to a stop in the kitchen doorway.

"Good evening Doris. Gus."

"Hello Henry. I was just talking to Gus about Shawn."

Henry took a few steps towards his son's friend and crouched down slightly.

"Gus, if you know where Shawn is I really need you to tell me. Before something happens to him."

Gus was fighting an internal battle between loyalty and logic. Of course he knew that if Shawn ran away, he'd only get into trouble. Maybe something might even happened to him. But if he told Shawn's father about it now, he'd also get into trouble.

"Gus?", Henry probed again. "I know that you're a loyal friend. And that's an admirable trait under normal circumstances. But I need to know where my son is."

Gus sighed in defeat. "He's in the tree house."

Henry straightened up and squeezed Gus' shoulder. "Thanks."

"Promise that you won't yell at him again!", Gus suddenly blurted out.

Henry stopped and turned back towards his son's friend. "I will need to make him understand why he can't do that ever again, Gus."

"But promise you won't yell. Shawn won't listen to you if you start yelling anyway, and then he'll only run away again."

"Burton!", Mrs. Guster hissed at her son, but Henry waved her off.

"It's all right, Doris." Henry sighed. "All right, Gus, I promise that I won't yell at him. But I will need to seriously talk to him about this, and I can already tell you that he will get grounded for quite some time."

"All right", Gus said grumpily, knowing that he'd not get anything else out of his friend's father for now. Together, the three of them turned towards the back door and went out into the garden. They came out just in time to see a small shadow climb down the ladder to Gus' tree house. Gus was sure that his friend had figured something was wrong after Gus had stayed away for so long. But Shawn hadn't noticed them yet, and Henry was already hurrying over towards his son.

"Shawn, your Dad's here!", Gus yelled, but it was too late.

Henry had already reached his son, and Shawn had nearly reached the ground when he heard his friend's yell. It was too late to climb up again, and it was too late to jump off the ladder and run away. Gus could see in the dim light how Shawn quickly assessed those options, and then climbed down the last two steps of the ladder in defeat. His father's hand landed on Shawn's shoulder, and Gus felt his own mother put her hand on his arm, as if to stop him from running over towards his friend. As if that would help either of them right now.

"Sorry Shawn", Gus mumbled.

Shawn attempted to flash him a smile. "It's not your fault, Gus."

"Come on Shawn, let's go home", Henry said and turned Shawn towards the street. "Thanks for helping out here, Doris."

Gus' mother nodded. "You're welcome. Good night, Henry."  
"Night Doris. Gus."

And Gus watched as Shawn walked out of their garden and along the small path beside the house that would lead them towards the road and Henry's car. Knowing the punishments his friend normally received, this would probably be the last time he saw Shawn for the next couple of weeks.

"Come on, Gus. It's time for you to go to bed."

With a last look at the disappearing form of his friend, Gus allowed his mother to steer him back into the house.


	2. Not exactly a cat burglar at work here

**Chapter 1: ****Not exactly a cat burglar at work here **

Santa Barbara, present day

Shawn Spencer, Santa Barbara's one and only psychic detective, was not in a good mood.

By all rights he should be. He and Gus had just solved a high profile case on which the police had been stuck. Shawn had managed to bring the police back on track of the group of thieves who had robbed a museum, and in addition to that he had been able to give what he himself thought to be one of this best fake psychic performances. It had included everything, even an opportunity to bump into Detective Lassiter and throw him off balance without having to fear any repercussions.

Solving that case had also brought a nice fat cheque for Gus and him, with the museum adding a little bonus on top of his police consultant's fee for discovering the flaws in their security system. He and Gus had celebrated with an excessive take out dinner at the office, watching a movie and just relaxing after three days of hard detective work.

But now Shawn wasn't in a good mood anymore. Gus had been first to leave the office, leaving it to Shawn to lock up. Shawn had cleaned up their mess, had set the Tivo to record the rerun of that Schwarzenegger movie that was on tonight and had left.

Without locking up.

And of course he had only realised that after he had come to his apartment, kicked of his shoes and tossed his helmet into a corner.

Dilemma.

On the one hand, Shawn wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep. But on the other hand he knew exactly that Gus would be in the office before him tomorrow, and if he found out that Shawn had forgotten to lock up, he'd have one of his little freak-outs à la Gus. Which Shawn was quite sure he didn't want to happen.

So there only was one possibility left. With a deep sigh, Shawn picked up his helmet, pulled his shoes back on and grabbed his jacket. It was only a ten-minute drive, then a minute for locking up and another ten-minute drive back home. If he hurried up the stairs, he'd be in his bed in twenty-five minutes, tops.

The Santa Barbara streets were blissfully empty at night, but still Shawn stuck to the speed limit. He wasn't one for speeding, he cherished his driver's licence too much for that. Besides, he knew what could happen, his father had shown him all the police videos used to scare off young drivers. Starting at a young age, they had left quite an impression with him.

A good ten minutes later, Shawn pulled off his helmet and got off his bike in front of the office. The door was still closed, and Shawn rummaged around in his pocket for his keys to lock up.

And just as he put the key into the lock, he heard something inside the office fall to the floor with a resounding crash. Shawn froze, hand still raised and the key poised right in front of the lock. He held his breath and listened intently. The crashing sound didn't repeat itself, but Shawn was sure that he had heard it. And there were other sounds, much lower, but still audible if one only listened well enough. There were low steps, and the sound of broken glass being moved around.

Shawn hesitated for a moment, thinking what he should do. If somebody was just about to break into the office, Shawn wasn't properly prepared to face them. He didn't have a weapon, and maybe it would be wisest to call for backup before he even thought about entering the office.

But he also didn't want to call out the police only to have all this turn out to be nothing. That would seriously damage his reputation as a psychic, not even knowing whether the person in his own office was friend or foe. Or whether it was even a person. But if he waited too long and the office was truly being robbed right now, that'd only give the perps enough time to take off with the TV, Gus' laptop and the Tivo. And Shawn really, _really_ wanted to see that Schwarzenegger movie.

With a deep breath, Shawn put his key into his pocket again and pulled out his cell phone. He'd put his finger on the speed dial for Juliet's number before entering the office, and if there was somebody trying to rob the office he'd hit the send button as quickly as possible.

Slowly, very silently, Shawn put his hand on the doorknob and opened the office door. Fortunately, it didn't creak and instead allowed him to silently enter the room.

The lights were still off, but Shawn had already seen that from outside. But in here, the sounds were more clearly audible than from the outside. Somebody definitely was here, trying to be silent. And for some strange reason the burglars didn't seem to be in the office proper, but rather over in the kitchen area.

Slowly, Shawn crept closer, still listening attentively to try and determine whether there was only one person in the office or more. As he rounded the corner towards the small kitchen, he reached out and grabbed an umbrella from the stand in the corridor. Probably Gus had left it standing there, Shawn couldn't even remember seeing an umbrella in the office. To his best knowledge, he had never owned an umbrella himself. But it beat having no weapon at all.

The kitchen was just as dark as the rest of the office, the dim light from the streetlamps outside casting barely a glow through the blinds on the windows. All Shawn could see was a shadow moving along the counter. Silently, Shawn reached out for the light switch and prepared himself against the sudden onslaught of light he knew would be coming.

Then he flicked the light switch.

A startled gasp was the first thing he heard, and Shawn stared at the sight in front of him in complete and utter confusion. There, right in front of him, stood the burglar who had entered the office. Shawn didn't quite know what he was supposed to think.

Since when did burglars clean up the mess they caused?

And exactly since when did burglars start out at such an early age?

The boy in front of him could not be more than eleven, maybe twelve years old. He was staring at Shawn from wide blue eyes. Bangs of sandy hair ware hanging into his face, some of them threatening to cover his eyes entirely if they grew just a little longer. The boy was scrawny and slightly dirty with dark rings under his eyes and a variety of stains on both, his jeans and his t-shirt, but somehow he lacked that look of cold detachment that Shawn had seen in other street kids.

"Who are you?", the boy hissed at Shawn.

Shawn, feeling slightly silly to still be holding the umbrella like a baseball bat, put it down and leaned it into a corner. He snapped his cell phone shut, shoved it into his jacket pocket and looked up at the scrawny boy.

"I should be asking you that question. This is my office, after all, which would make what you're doing breaking and entering."

"Just entering", the boy said defensively. "The door was unlocked, I didn't break anything. Well, not at first."

Sheepishly, he looked down at the glass shards he was holding in his hands. Shawn guessed that this had been a jar of mayonnaise not too long ago. And despite his cocky attitude, there was a tension in the boy's stance, making it clear that he was ready to run immediately, should the need arise.

Slowly, so as not to scare the boy into running, Shawn went over towards the trash bin and raised the lid.

"First of all, you'd better get rid of the shards before you cut yourself."

The kid hesitantly made a step forward, then he dropped the glass shards into the bin and immediately took a couple of steps back again. Shawn put the lid back on the trash bin and leaned against the doorframe.

"All right. And now, how about you tell me what is going on here."

The boy's eyes were darting to and fro, evaluating escape routes. Shawn gave his pose a relaxed look, but he, too, was ready to run at a moment's notice should the kid decide to bolt. When the boy still hadn't spoken after a few seconds, Shawn tried again.

"I'm Shawn. Care to tell me your name?"

"Eric." The answer came immediate enough to be the truth, but Shawn couldn't be sure.

"Okay Eric. How did you end up in my office?"

Eric shrugged, still keeping a wary eye on Shawn. "I saw you leave earlier. You didn't lock up. And…well, I wanted to see if you had something to eat here."

Shawn nodded. He wouldn't have quite believed the kid if he had found him with Gus' notebook or the TV in hand, but seeing that he had caught him with a glass of mayonnaise and an old and dry bagel out on the counter, this sounded like the truth.

"Why didn't you come in and ask?"

Eric shrugged uncomfortably. "Because…you'd have called the police. I didn't want to cause any trouble, I only wanted a sandwich or something. Please, I promise I didn't want to steal anything, and I didn't want to break anything, either. Please, just don't call the police."

The boy was scared, that was obvious. Shawn didn't want to aggravate that, so he raised a calming hand.

"I don't intend to call the police, kid. No harm, no foul, all right?"

Eric swallowed. "Thanks. I…I'll just be going then."

He made a few steps towards the door, but Shawn stepped in his way. "Wait."

Eric stopped like a deer caught in the headlights. "You said you wouldn't call the police", he said in a low voice.

"And I won't. But you said you were hungry."

The boy's eyes darted towards the fridge and back, giving Shawn all the answer he needed.

"All right, how about we make a deal?"

"What deal?" Eric's voice was wary.

"There's half a meatball sub in the fridge. I'll pop it in the microwave for you, you sit down over there and eat."

"Then what's the deal about it?" Still, the wariness hadn't vanished.

"That you tell me how a boy your age ends up in someone else's office at night instead of lying in his bed, worrying about nothing but the next school day."

Eric thought for a long moment, still eyeing Shawn with absolute distrust, but in the end his hunger seemed to win over all his doubts and he nodded.

"All right."

Eric sat down on the sofa Shawn had indicated earlier and Shawn put the sub into the microwave. A minute later he carried the plate over and sat down in an armchair so that he was facing Eric.

"Tuck in."

The boy hesitated for another short moment, watching the sandwich and Shawn warily, but after a few seconds he grabbed the sub and tore off a huge bite. Shawn watched him eat for a few moments, then got up and grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the office were caused by Eric wolfing down the sandwich as if somebody would tear it away from him if only he hesitated too long.

When he had finished, he leaned put the plate down with a sigh. "Thanks", he mumbled, not meeting Shawn's eyes.

"You're welcome. Now, to my side of the deal."

Eric nervously fidgeted with the hem of his stained sweater. "Not much to tell", he said lowly, with a shrug of lanky shoulders. "I don't go to school. I don't have a home. Haven't had one since I was five. Getting into your office was easier than scrounging people for money."

Shawn didn't believe a word of what the kid was saying. He had seen street kids before, the kind that had been living on the streets for years, and Eric didn't look one bit like them. His hair was slightly too long, but it was obvious that it had been cut recently. And while his clothes were dirty, they weren't torn or used for a long time. Same went for his shoes. They weren't brand new, they weren't high priced, but they had definitely not been on the kid for months. Also, while he looked scrawny, he didn't look starved, and his hands were suspiciously clean, even under the fingernails. Shawn didn't know one street kid who still took care of washing his hands regularly, that was something ingrained into a kid in a regular life.

"How old are you?"

Eric took a large swig of the soda. "Eleven. But I will be twelve in a couple of months."

That Shawn could believe. He smiled at the boy, and immediately the wary look was back in Eric's eyes.

"What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing. But you haven't been on the streets for years, kid. I'm a psychic, I can tell when you're lying."

"What's a psychic?", Eric asked with a frown.

"Somebody who can talk with beings on another plane of existence."

Eric's face pulled into a frown. "I don't get it."

Shawn sighed. "I can talk to spirits."

"You mean you're talking to ghosts? Like that chick on TV?"

Shawn seriously doubted that somebody who had allegedly been on the streets for years knew _Ghostwhisperer_. But that was beside the point.

"Something like it. Though I'm not seeing ghosts. It works a bit different."

Eric shrugged. "That's bullshit."

"Watch your language, kid."

Shawn's tone had been friendly, but still Eric flinched at the reprimand. Shawn didn't quite know what to do with that new piece of information about this strange kid, but decided to let it pass for now. Eric was running his finger along the rim of his soda can.

"So you're kinda like a private detective. That's what the sign on the window says."

Shawn nodded. "Kind of, yes." He put his hand up to his temple and closed his eyes for a moment. "For example I know that you haven't been living on the streets for long. Two weeks, maybe three? And you are not from Santa Barbara, but from somewhere else in California." Shawn seriously doubted that the boy had come from somewhere too far away, but if he had been from Santa Barbara, Shawn would have heard about it. "You've run away from home."

Eric shook his head, but the look in his eyes told Shawn that he had struck a chord with what he had said. For a few moments, Eric nervously fiddled around with his can again.

"So if somebody came to you searching for somebody, you could find them?"

Shawn sighed. "Probably. Why, are you searching for somebody?"

Eric quickly shook his head. "No. I was just wondering. You know, what kind of people come to you for help."

"Well, most of the times it's just normal people. And I help the police from time to time."

Eric's bright blue eyes widened remarkably. "You're working with the police?"

Inwardly, Shawn cursed himself for ruining what little rapport he had built up with the kid over the past minutes by mentioning the police. He shrugged.

"Sometimes, when they're stuck they ask me for help. I know a couple of very nice police officers, the kind who really want to help."

Eric shook his head mutely, his body posture suddenly hostile and closed up again.

Shawn drew a breath to say something else, but at that moment his cell phone rang. Eric jumped at the sound, but Shawn put up a placating hand as he pulled out the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"Shawn, it's Gus."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering if you're still at the office?"

Absent-mindedly, Shawn got up from his chair and started walking through the room. "Yes, why?"

"My VCR gave out and there's a documentary on Benjamin Franklin on the History Channel tonight. I was wondering whether you could set the Tivo at the office?"

Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "If it's between three and five, forget it. _Last Action Hero_ is on rerun, and I still haven't seen it."

"Damn. Well, then I'll just have to check the reruns next week. Don't forget to lock up when you leave."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Your lack of faith in me is disappointing. Am I not a paragon of reliability?"

"No. That's why I tell you again: don't forget to lock up. Good night, Shawn."

"Yeah, good night."

Shawn closed his cell phone, put it in his jeans pocket and turned towards the couch again, intending to get some more information out of Eric after the interruption.

But the sofa was empty.

Soda can and plate were still standing on the low table in front of it, but its previous occupant had vanished. Quickly, Shawn looked around the office, but he already knew that Eric had left. Mentioning the police had spooked him, and with the phone call distracting Shawn he had taken off. Shawn hurried over towards the back door and found it unlocked. Looking out, all he saw was the parking lot and the beach promenade, both totally empty. Eric had gone.


	3. If you call that stalking, you still

**Chapter 2 – ****If you call that stalking, you still have a lot to learn**

Shawn didn't sleep overly well that night. By the time he arrived back at his apartment, after making sure the office was carefully locked, this body had overcome its temporal low and wasn't prepared to go to sleep anytime soon. So Shawn placed himself in front of the TV in his apartment, channel-surfing to distract himself from the thoughts about that strange boy who had broken into their office earlier.

What was really bugging him was that he didn't know why thoughts of the kid wouldn't let him alone. Growing up in a bigger city, it was unavoidable to become aware of the kids who didn't have a good start into life. Cruel as it sounded, after a while you really got used to the fact that it wasn't only middle-aged men and women who ended up on the streets. It didn't make the matter less sad, but it was just a part of life.

But Eric hadn't been a street kid. He had run away from home, that much Shawn was sure of. And kids who ran away had a reason for doing so. Eric had asked him about finding people, so probably the kid was searching for somebody, even though he had denied it. If Shawn was totally honest with himself, the boy was a mystery, and whenever he was faced with a mystery, Shawn couldn't help but try and solve it. It was his right, he figured, after all Eric had involved him the moment he had started rummaging around in the fridge at the office.

Come tomorrow morning, Shawn would go down to the police station and ask Juliet to let him access the missing persons files. If Eric had run away from home, surely his parents had filed a report about it. And once he found that, Shawn would know more.

He finally fell asleep twenty minutes into the rerun of _Last Action Hero_. But that didn't matter, after all he could watch the recording tomorrow. The office was locked, and the Tivo was safe.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning, Shawn arrived at the office at ten. He'd have been there earlier, but after having so much difficulties falling asleep, he had decided that a little sleep in was in order.

Gus, of course, was already there when Shawn stepped in through the door, and the glare he levelled at Shawn meant that something was up.

"Good morning", Shawn grumbled and took a seat behind his desk. Seeing that Gus' glare was still directed at him, he raised both eyebrows.

"All right, let's run through this again. It's not difficult, but maybe you need a little additional help. I say "good morning", upon which you have the opportunity to say "good morning" back to me, or you can simply smile and nod. But whatever you do, I have to tell you that glaring is considered kind of rude."

Gus rolled his eyes. "I'm not exactly in a cheerful mood this morning."

"No _Fruit Loops _for breakfast?"

"Nearly broke my neck when I slipped on that huge mayonnaise stain over there in the kitchen. Didn't know that getting a coffee could be that dangerous, but with you as a friend I should have known."

Right, that was what Shawn had forgotten. He had wanted to clean up the mayonnaise, but with Eric's sudden disappearing act he had all but forgotten about it.

"Sorry. Had a little accident with the mayonnaise jar last night and I got distracted."

"Well, in that case be glad that it was me who slipped on it and not a possible client."

"You let clients get their own coffee? Really Gus, I'd have thought your mother had taught you better manners."

Gus kept one eyebrow raised at his friend, but after a moment sighed and turned back to his laptop screen. Shawn realised that his friend was working hard to forget that the past minutes had even happened in favour of throwing a tantrum. So as not to interrupt that process Shawn went into the small kitchen to see if Gus had managed to put on the coffee maker despite his little mishap. He was lucky, and a few moments later he returned to his desk with a to-go cup of coffee in his hands.

"And what are you working on? We got a case?"

Gus shook his head. "No. I was just updating my client list. Why, do we have a case?"

Shawn shrugged. "Why don't we go to the police station to find out? They have to be working on something, and I haven't had the chance to tease Lassie in far too long."

"Shawn, you all but slammed into him during your vision yesterday morning."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Is it already that long? Come on, let's go."

Gus took his time in shutting down his computer and picking up his jacket. Shawn waited impatiently beside the car as Gus carefully locked the office door, show-off that he was.

Fifteen minutes later, the two friends were on their way into the police station. Shawn had to realise quickly that he seemed to be the only one in a cheerful mode here today. All right, so Gus was still secretly angry about the mayonnaise debacle, but that would be over and done with in about an hour or two. But everybody else in the station today seemed extremely busy and focussed on what they were doing.

Lassiter's and Juliet's desks were empty, but the door and blinds in Chief Vick's office were closed. Not that a little thing like closed blinds would have ever stopped Shawn. Completely ignoring the Chief's obvious desire for privacy, and utterly oblivious to the warning sounds Gus made, Shawn steered straight for the door and opened it up without bothering to knock.

Chief Vick was sitting behind her desk, with Lassiter and Juliet on the seats facing her. All three of them turned upon Shawn's abrupt entrance.

"Mr. Spencer…", Chief Vick started in her most venomous voice, but before she continued Shawn had put a hand to his temple, had his eyes closed and was stumbling into the room.

"I see…I see…", he shook his head and squinted his eyes shut tightly. "It doesn't matter what I see!"

"Now that is something we can finally agree on", Lassiter remarked dryly.

Shawn made a well calculated step to the side that had him brushing against Lassiter's chair and nearly knocking him off.

"Spencer!", Lassiter hissed, but Shawn cut him off.

"It's what I should see…what should be there! Something is missing. Missing scenes, missing shoes, missing people. Missing People!" Shawn opened his eyes abruptly, facing a still very irate Karen Vick. "The spirits want to tell me something about somebody who is missing. It is important."

"It's also very vague, Mr. Spencer." Her voice was determined.

Shawn cocked his head to the side and gave the Chief his best look of disbelief. "Chief Vick, I cannot control what the spirits tell me. Sometimes they show me clear pictures, sometimes only vague shadows. But when have they ever misled me, Chief? Don't we owe it to whatever crime might have happened to clear it up?"

Vick sighed. "Mr. Spencer, if you don't mind, we were in the middle of a conversation here. As long as you don't have anything specific to bring forth, I am afraid that your matter will have to wait."

Shawn sighed. "All I need is to have a look at the Missing Persons files from the past couple of weeks. I'm sure that the spirits will alert me to whatever is important."

Vick pointed her finger at the door, and indirectly at Gus, who was standing half behind Shawn in the doorway.

"Out, Mr. Spencer. Come back if you have something specific for us to work with, until then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you."

Shawn stared at her for a long moment, but when it became obvious that she wouldn't relent, Shawn sighed dramatically and turned around.

"Come on Gus. Let's go back to the office."

"What? That's what you dragged me here for? Shawn, wait up!"

As Gus vanished out of the doorway, Chief Vick leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Detective Lassiter, would you mind closing the door again? Thank you."

With a slight smirk, Lassiter got up and did just that.

Downstairs in the parking lot, Shawn was waiting next to Gus' car. And Gus didn't look all too happy when he approached.

"That was what you dragged me here for?", he repeated angrily as he opened the door. "So that you could ask Vick to have a look at the Missing Persons files? What's that got to do with anything? Are you working on a case without telling me about it?"

He angrily got into the car without paying attention to what his friend was doing. Shawn was about to follow, but then he saw something from the corner of his eye and hesitated, one foot already in the car.

He could have sworn he had seen the figure of a small boy standing beside the bushes on the other side of the road, but as soon as he lifted his head and focussed his gaze, the figure had gone. Nevertheless, Shawn was pretty sure. Small, scrawny, blue jeans and sweater, brown hair. Just a moment ago, Eric had been standing just across the street, watching him. Shawn didn't understand. Just yesterday evening, the boy had been scared out of his wits by the mere mentioning of the police, and today he was standing in plain sight of the police station, just to watch Shawn?

He didn't understand what was going on, and that thought was driving him mad.

"Shawn! Are you getting in the car or do you want to stay out? Because I don't have all day."

"Sure." His eyes still on the shrubbery on the other side of the road, Shawn got into the car and buckled his seatbelt.

Gus sped out onto the street with a little more vigour than would have been strictly necessary.

"So, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

"What what is all about?", Shawn asked back innocently.

"Shawn, don't play innocent with me. You had a reason why you wanted to go down to the police station."

"Yes, to get us a case."

Gus rolled his eyes. "No Shawn, not to get us just _any_ case. You wanted a very specific case, otherwise you would not have asked to see the Missing Persons files. So, what are you working on?"

Shawn sighed and looked out of the window. "Nothing."

Gus drew a breath to let out another tirade, but Shawn waved him off. "No, just listen and let me explain. Do you remember that mayonnaise stain on our kitchen floor?"

"Vividly. In great detail. What about it?"

"Well, it might have gotten onto our floor because I caught an eleven year old runaway in our office yesterday evening."

That silenced Gus for a moment, but Shawn could clearly see it on his face as another question popped up in his head.

"How could you catch a kid in our office if you were there the entire time until you locked up and left?"

Shawn bit his lip, but there was no evading it anymore. "He might have gotten in because I forgot to lock up when I left the first time."

"Shawn!"

"I know, Gus. I'm not the paragon of responsibility. And I drove back as soon as I noticed what had happened, even though I was dead tired."

Gus breathed deeply a couple of times, and Shawn was wise enough not to interrupt his friend while he was trying to calm himself down.

"And what if the kid had been stealing the TV after you forgot to lock up?"

No, the breathing no longer seemed to be working for Gus. Shawn made a mental note to research calming techniques for his friend as soon as possible.

"The kid was far too small and scrawny to carry the TV. Besides, he was only hungry. I caught him while he tried to make himself a bagel. He was holding a jar of mayonnaise, not the contents of our safe. Not that we have a safe, by the way."

"We have talked about that Shawn. No safe. My name is on that lease, I won't let you tear any holes into our walls. Besides, they're dry walls, that wouldn't work anyway. And don't change the topic. What did the kid want, other than a sandwich?"

Shawn shrugged. "Not really anything. He was pretty scared that I'd call the police on him. In the end he told me some made up story about having lived on the streets for years."

"He didn't?", Gus asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Didn't look like it. He was too clean, too well behaved. And there wasn't any street-smartness about him when I caught him. He was practically begging me not to call the police, not at all like any kid that might have experience with the police. Besides, I pretty much told him that I had pegged him as a runaway, and the look in his eyes gave him away."

Gus nodded. "So you wanted to look at the Missing Persons files to find out who he was."

Shawn nodded. "Yes. And he hinted that he was searching for somebody here in the area. I don't think he's from Santa Barbara, which is why taking a peek into the hardcopies won't help me. I need computer access to the California wide Missing Persons database to find out who he is."

"Why are you going all those lengths? Now, don't get me wrong, I don't like the idea of an eleven year old out there at night, alone, either, but most probably you'll never see him again."

Shawn sighed. "I know. But still, it's bugging me."

There was nothing Gus could respond to that, so they drove the rest of the way in silence.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After Chief Vick's refusal to give them a case, Gus spent the remaining day with taking care of the bills, making phone-calls, doing the paperwork for the Psych agency, and balancing the agency cheque book. Shawn spent the afternoon playing Space Invaders on the computer.

All in all it wasn't a bad afternoon, but Shawn knew exactly that they needed a new case, and soon. Not having anything to do was a dangerous state for him to be in, even Shawn himself knew that. He tended to get ideas when he had nothing else to occupy himself with, and while those ideas always seemed brilliant at the time, often they turned out to have…interesting consequences.

At half past four, Shawn's cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Shawn, it's me."

Shawn rolled his eyes. He hated it when people said that. Either they knew you recognised them by their voice, then "it's me" was totally unnecessary. Or they didn't know whether you recognised them by their voice or not, in which case "it's me" wasn't exactly helpful at identifying the speaker, either. Shawn hated it when people did that.

"Hey Dad", he said with fake cheerfulness. "What gives me the honour of your call on such a lovely afternoon?"

"Slow business, right?"

Shawn sighed and pressed "Pause" on the computer.

"We're in between cases. But I guess you're not calling to ask about that."

"No, actually I was calling to ask whether you'll come over for dinner tonight."

Shawn frowned. This was wrong. Off, somehow. His father didn't just invite him over for dinner, not if there wasn't something else he wanted.

"Does the lawn need moving?"

"No." Henry sounded slightly surprised.

"The roof needs fixing?"

"No." The surprise was ebbing away rapidly.

"Wait, I got it. You need something done that is dangerous. Or hazardous. I don't know, something involving lead-paint. Or asbestos. Is there a body you need to get rid of?"

"Shawn! I just want to invite my son over for dinner, no strings attached. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, actually yes. But I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I guess the answer is yes. What time?"

"Half past seven."

Shawn nodded, though his father couldn't see. "All right, I'll be there. You said no strings attached, right?"

"Half past seven", Henry repeated, then he hung up.

With a shake of his head, Shawn slowly hung up the phone.

"What's up?", Gus asked.

"Nothing. My dad just invited me over for dinner."

"Oh yes, that's harsh. I don't know how you can stand such a treatment." He shook his head. "Shawn, your Dad is a great cook. He invites you over for dinner, so what is there to worry about?"

Shawn shrugged. "Well, with my Dad, one never knows. You want to tag along?"

Gus shook his head. "No, thanks. I still need to prepare my round for tomorrow morning, I'd better head home and get to it."

Shawn nodded. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow then, I guess."

Gus picked up his laptop and jacket and turned towards the door. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Gus left and Shawn went back to the Space Invaders. He still had a lot of time to kill before he had to leave for his Dad's house.

Maybe half an hour had passed since Gus had left, when Shawn got up in between two levels to get himself a soda. His personal record would fall today, but for that he needed some more nourishment.

As he turned around to walk back to his desk, he saw a shadow move hurriedly away from one of the windows. Again, he had only seen it for the fragment of a moment, but again he was sure he knew exactly who he had seen. He didn't know why exactly Eric was following him around, or why he didn't approach him, but he intended to find out.

The soda still in his hand, Shawn went over to the front door, opened it up and looked around. He carefully scanned the area and the people walking by, but there was no sign of Eric anywhere. But Shawn was sure that the kid was around somewhere, watching him. Well, two could play that game.

Shawn left the door slightly ajar and went back to his computer.

Sooner or later Eric would come to him if he truly wanted something, standing outside and yelling his name would only scare him away.

Shawn played another two levels of Space Invaders and was incredibly close to breaking his personal record when he distantly heard the sound of the office door closing. Shawn didn't look up from his computer, but he paid close attention to the sound of steps approaching.

"Hello Eric", he said, still without looking up from his computer screen, when he was sure that the steps had reached the office proper.

"Hey", a quiet voice answered.

Shawn pressed "Pause" on the keyboard and leaned back in his chair to look at the boy. Eric was standing shyly in the doorway of the room, wearing the same clothes he had the previous evening. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and was staring down at his scuffed shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"There's some pizza on the counter in the kitchen, if you want."

Eric didn't move, he only shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans. Shawn waited for a few moments, then he got up from his chair, went over into the kitchen where he grabbed the pizza box and another soda and returned into the office. He put the food and drink on Gus' empty desktop and gestured for Eric to sit down. Hesitantly, the boy did.

"It's sausage and peppers, hope you're not a vegetarian."

Eric picked up one of the slices of pizza and took a huge bite.

Shawn chuckled. "Guess you're not a vegetarian, then."

Eric wolfed down three slices of pizza and the can of soda in a matter of minutes, then he leaned back and stared around the office, not meeting Shawn's eyes.

"Why are you doing this?"

Shawn shrugged. "I figured that if you were that hungry yesterday, you'd be hungry today, too. After all, you did a lot of walking today."

Eric's head snapped up. "You saw me?"

Shawn grinned. "Psychic detective, we talked about that yesterday. I can't possibly tell you the tricks of the trade. But I do know that you were at the police station this morning, and then you followed me here again. Why didn't you come in earlier?"

Eric shrugged and busied himself with folding the lid of the pizza carton down in an orderly fashion. "I waited for the other guy to leave."

"The other guy? You mean Gus?"

"I don't know his name. The black guy."

"Yes, that's Gus. You don't need to worry about him, Eric. He's my best friend, and he knows that you were here yesterday."

Eric shrugged again, and Shawn slowly learned that for kids of Eric's age, that seemed to be a whole form of communication in itself. He picked up the pizza box and empty soda can and brought them into the kitchen. Eric looked startled when a new, full soda can was placed in front of him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, why don't you just go ahead and tell me why you've been following me around today. If there is anything you want me to help you with, you need to tell me."

"I thought the spirits told you that kind of stuff."

"Anybody ever tell you that you're a smart mouth?"

A dark look settled on Eric's face for a moment. "Yeah."

Shawn realised that he needed to steer the conversation back into safer waters before the boy clammed up entirely again.

"All right, let's just assume for one moment that the spirits haven't told me anything about you. So why don't you go ahead and do it."

"Why did you go to the police station this morning?"

Shawn raised both eyebrows. "I told you I'm working for them occasionally. I wanted to see whether they had a new case for Gus and me."

"Did you tell them about me?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I didn't. And what should I have told them? There's a runaway in this city? There's nothing they could do about that, except maybe if you come running into the police station. And why were you following us?"

Eric shrugged again. "To see what you're doing all day. Didn't look as if a psychic detective had all that much to do. You played the computer for the entire afternoon."

Shawn grinned. "Normally, people go different about checking my credentials. But that's how it is when we don't have a case."

Eric took another sip of his soda and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "You said you could find people."

Shawn nodded. "Yes. Why, do you want to hire me?"

Eric shook his head. "I don't have any money to hire you."

"You also aren't old enough to hire me. So why don't we forget about money and age for now and you simply tell me why you ran away and came to Santa Barbara. Maybe I can help you."

Eric shrugged again. "I'm searching for my Dad."

Shawn nodded. "All right. Can't be too hard to find him, Eric. Just give me his name and it shouldn't be a problem…"

Eric sighed. "I don't know his name."

"What do you mean, you don't know his name?"

"I don't know his name. Well, his last name in any case. I don't know my Dad, I've never seen him. I only know that he moved to Santa Barbara some years ago."

Shawn leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his neck. "All right, why don't you tell me the whole story?"

That question was rewarded with another shrug. "Not much to tell. I've grown up with my Mom and her husband. But he's not my Dad. And when I told my Mom that I wanted to meet my real Dad, she told me that she didn't know where he was. So when I…well, when I couldn't stay with them anymore, I thought I'd come here and try to find him."

Shawn got the feeling that there was a lot more to the story as to why Eric thought he couldn't stay with his mother anymore, but he was also sure that prying wouldn't bring him any further now, either.

"There was absolutely nothing she could tell you about him?"

"I don't know." Another shrug. "Maybe she just didn't want to tell me more. All I know is that his first name is Collin. She said she didn't know his last name. He was in the Army twelve years ago, in Phoenix. That's where my Mom lived back then. She said he moved to Santa Barbara not long after they met. That's all I know."

Shawn ran his hand through his hair and frowned. "All right, I see how that can be difficult. What were you trying to do? Go through the phonebook and visit all Collins in the Santa Barbara area?"

Eric shrugged. "I don't know. I just…I want to find him. Do you think you can help me?"

"Sure. It might take a little while, though. What are you going to do in the meantime? Do you have a place to stay?"

Eric nodded quickly. "Sure. I…I have a place."  
"Are you sure? Because there are ways of getting a place to stay for you, without involving the police."

Eric shook his head. "No, that's not necessary."

"And how am I supposed to reach you if I find out something?"

"I'll be around."

Shawn shook his head. "Eric, I don't like this. There is no need for this. You can stay at my place if you want, but I'd be more comfortable to be sure that you aren't out there alone."

"I'm not", Eric said and jumped up from his chair. "I'll be around, I promise. I'll come back tomorrow."

And he bolted for the back door. Shawn reacted immediately and hurried after him, but Eric was fast for a kid his age. Before Shawn had even rounded his desk, he had run through the back door and had vanished into the groups of people on the promenade.

For the second time in as many days, all Shawn could do was stand there and wonder what the boy's story was.


	4. A new spin

**Chapter 3 –**** A new spin, caused by a rotating camera**

Dinner tasted like sawdust. Now, Shawn was pretty sure that it wasn't his Dad's fault. He guessed that under any other circumstances, the steak would taste great, as would the potatoes and the beans. But tonight, his heart simply wasn't in it. If he didn't pay close attention to what it was that he put in his mouth, he had difficulties telling the different parts of dinner apart.

All the while, he was mulling over and over in his head what the deal about Eric was. And, more importantly, how he could manage to find the boy's father with the little information he had.

"All right, what's going on?"

Upon hearing his father's voice, Shawn looked up with a surprised frown on his face.

"What do you mean?"

Henry levelled one of his patented glares at Shawn, then he shook his head and piled some more beans onto his plate.

"For the past ten minutes, you've been staring down at your plate as if you expect the steak to jump at you any moment now. Normally, you're acting like a starving wolf when somebody puts any kind of food in front of you. Not to mention that normally even a mouthful of food doesn't stop you from talking non-stop."

Shawn sighed and poked around his plate with his fork. "It's not about the food."

"A case?"

Was it a case? Shawn wasn't really sure. Not that it mattered all that much right now, come to think of it. Case or not, it was bugging him.

"Kind of."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Kind of. Want to run it by me?"

"Geez Dad, anybody ever tell you about client confidentiality?"

Henry smiled. "It hasn't stopped you from telling me about cases before."

Shawn put his fork down, finally accepting the fact that he wouldn't get another bite down tonight.

"There's nothing to really run by you, but I do have a question."

Henry speared the last piece of his steak and waved the fork at Shawn. "All right. Shoot."

"How would you go on about tracking somebody?"

Chewing the steak, Henry thought for a moment. "Well, it depends on what information and resources you have. Normally, running a name through the police computers should do the trick. There you'll either find criminal records or the data from the registration offices."

"And what if I tell you that I don't have a last name to search for?"

Henry shrugged. "Then things get difficult. If you only have the first name and no further information, I'd say it's highly unlikely you'll find whoever you're searching for. So what have you got?"

"A first name. And I know that he probably was in the Army twelve years back, stationed in Phoenix, Arizona. Moved to Santa Barbara a bit later, also around twelve years back. That's all."

Henry finished his dinner and started cleaning away the plates. "Well, if he was in the Army, that's good news. The Military has files for everything, and they never throw anything out. So if the person you're searching for was re-stationed from Phoenix to Santa Barbara, you should be able to find out. Also if he quit. But that still depends on the name. If the guy you're searching for is named "John", you'll have a lot of files to go through."

Shawn sighed. "The name is Collin."

"Not quite as bad as John, but not exactly rare, either. Beer?"

Shawn shook his head. "No thanks, I got here on the bike. So, how do I get into the Army files?"

Henry chuckled. "Probably not at all. If it were tied to a criminal case, the police could ask for the files. Normally, administrative assistance at this level isn't a problem. But if you have no official reason to be looking into this, I doubt that the Army would just let you search through their stuff."

Shawn sighed. "I figured as much. Well, I only need to find a way to convince the Chief to ask the Army for a look into their files."

A deep frown settled on Henry's face. "Watch out what you're doing, Shawn. It's one thing to use your little psychic show to lead the police onto the right path in their investigations. Using your rapport with them to help you in your private cases is another matter entirely. I know Karen, if she gets wind of what you're doing, she'll be pretty mad. And believe me that you don't want that to happen."

"I guess."

Shawn got up and grabbed another soda from the fridge. He opened it and leaned against the counter, staring down at the floor. Henry watched him silently for a few moments, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"All right, what is this really about?"

Shawn sighed. "A kid."

"A kid? What kid?"

"A kid who asked me to help him find his father."

Henry shook his head in disbelief. "I hope you are aware that you can't take cases from clients who aren't of age. If that comes out, your agency will be closed faster than you can say "smoothie", you know that, don't you?"

"It isn't a case, Dad. Listen, it's a bit complicated, but basically I caught a kid in the office burgling our fridge. We got talking, he ran away when I asked more detailed questions about him, but today he came back and asked me to help him find his Dad."

"Where is he now?"

Shawn pushed himself off the counter and walked back to his chair. "I don't know", he said as he sat down. "We seem to settle into a rhythm of talking and running. He took off earlier, said he'd be in contact."

"How old?"

"Eleven, closing in on twelve."

"What's his story?"

Shawn shrugged. "He wasn't exactly open about that. I'm fairly sure he's a runaway."

"And you didn't call the police?", Henry asked, his voice rising. "Shawn, if he ran away his parents are probably searching for him. They have to be worried sick!"

Shawn shook his head. "And what was I supposed to say? Lassie, there's a runaway somewhere here in Santa Barbara? I'll give you a cookie if you find him? Even I don't know where he is, so far he always sought me out. Besides, he didn't seem all too keen on going home again."

"Runaways generally aren't. In most cases, they're wrong. You should know."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You're not bringing that up, Dad, are you? That was a totally different thing."

Henry raised both eyebrows. "Really? And now tell me what exactly was different about it. Had I missed you at Gus' place, you'd have taken off to God only knows where, without anybody knowing where you were, or whether you were all right. And you weren't too keen on being brought home again, either, despite the fact that your home wasn't exactly hell on earth."

"Sure seemed like it to me."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Shawn raised his hands in desperation. "Dad, I was ten. Things have a totally different perspective when you're that age. And for as long as I don't know what Eric's story is, I'm going to take his fear of having to go home seriously. Kids normally don't run away without a reason."

"Yes, but sometimes a kid's reason for running away seems ridiculous from an adult perspective", Henry snapped back.

"Doesn't mean it's not a serious reason for the kid in question!"

Henry sighed. "Are we still talking about that kid, Eric? Or are we talking about you? Because I distinctly remember that you tried to run away because I grounded you. Which I really don't think you can still uphold as an argument from an adult perspective."

Shawn shook his head. "You grounding me wasn't the reason I ran away, Dad. But…let's just forget about that right now, all right? I really need to figure out a way to find out the name and address of Eric's father. If the kid really comes by the office again tomorrow, I want to have something to tell him. Maybe then he won't run away for once. I'll get to it first thing tomorrow."  
He got up from his chair and grabbed his helmet from the counter.

"Thanks for dinner, Dad."

Before Henry even had the chance to reply anything, Shawn had already vanished out the door. With a shake of his head, Henry placed the dishes into the dishwasher. He'd never understand how normal conversations with his son always got out of hand like that.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning, Shawn just stepped out of the shower when the telephone rang. Rubbing his damp hair with a towel, he reached for the phone and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Shawn, it's me."

"Gus, you're calling early. Don't you have rounds to make?"

"The first two appointments were cancelled, I don't have to go see any doctors until one p.m. So I went to the office. Good thing I did, too, because Chief Vick called."

Shawn frowned and placed the receiver between ear and shoulder. "Why did she call the office?"

"Because your cell goes directly to voicemail. Either you've turned it off or the battery is dead. Anyway, she wants us at the station ASAP. I'll be at your place in ten minutes."  
"Did she say what this was about?"

"No, just that we're to come over. I guess she has a case for us. Listen, I got to get into the car, I'll tell you what exactly she said when I pick you up."

"All right, see you in a few minutes."

Shawn hung up and immediately went over to check his cell phone. The battery was indeed dead. Great, and where was the charger?

After five minutes of searching, he finally located it under the couch. There was too little time to start charging the phone here, he'd just have to suck some juice from Gus' car battery during their drive.

Checking that he had his wallet and keys, Shawn grabbed a jacket and left the apartment. Gus drove his car up to the building just as Shawn went down the stairs.

"Morning", Shawn said as he got into the car, fastened his seat belt and plugged his charger into the cigarette lighter at the bottom of the dashboard. Gus watched him do it with a knowing look on his face.

"Forgot to charge it again, didn't you?"

"Yes. You want me to sign a written confession?"

Gus pulled onto the street. "Somebody isn't in a good mood today."

"It's not that", Shawn said as he leaned back in the car seat. "Just had another of those discussions with my Dad last night."

"What was this one about?"

Shawn shrugged. "Old stories. He's good at warming those up again. But after you left yesterday, something interesting happened."

"What's that?"

"Eric showed up again?"

"Who is Eric?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "The kid who rummaged through our kitchen the day before yesterday."

"Oh, and that's a good thing? What did he want this time, the TV?"

"Gus, I told you time and again that he's too scrawny to even move the TV." Shawn shook his head and quickly filled Gus in on everything that had happened the previous day, from his spotting Eric near the police station to the boy taking off at a run after telling Shawn about his father.

When he finished, Gus frowned. "So he wants us to find his father? Doesn't sound as if that would become easy if we don't even have a name."

"No, probably not. But the good thing is, it Chief Vick has a case for us, I might just get a chance to have a look at the Missing Persons files. If I can find out more about Eric, maybe it'll be easier to find his father. Who knows, the mother could have given the father's name on the birth certificate, and Eric just doesn't know."

Gus pulled the car into a parking space in front of the police station and the two of them got out. This time, the door to Chief Vick's office stood open and the blinds weren't drawn. As Shawn and Gus approached the office, Vick impatiently waved them inside.

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, glad you could make it on such a short notice."

Juliet didn't even flash a smile as a greeting, and Lassiter looked as if something had crawled into his mouth and died, but for once Shawn refrained from making any comments. His mind was racing as he prepared to take all the information he was about to receive in. He needed to figure out a way to twist the case they were about to receive in a way that he'd get the chance to look at the Missing Persons files.

"We are always ready and willing to come to the aid of the SBPD, Chief. What can we do for you this wonderful morning?"

Vick's face pulled into a frown. "Contrary to what you might be thinking, my morning has been anything but wonderful. There has been a murder last night."

Shawn frowned and looked from Vick to Juliet, Lassiter and back again. It wasn't unusual for them to call him in a murder investigation, but what was strange was that they called him so quickly after the fact.

"Not that I mind being called in, Chief, but what can I do for you? If the murder happened last night, most probably forensics from the crime scene haven't even come back yet."

Vick shook her head and got up from her chair. "They haven't. But in the light of your little visit to this very office yesterday, I think you might already have a connection to the case."

Shawn couldn't quite follow her train of thought. "Come again?"

Vick started fiddling around with the controls of the VCR/DVD system that was mounted beneath the TV in her office. "Detective Lassiter, if you'd fill him in please."

Lassiter didn't exactly look pleased, but he obeyed.

"The murder was called in at 5.30 a.m. this morning. A body which we identified by his ID as one Franklin Griggs was found in a warehouse on Wilson Boulevard this morning. The warehouse was empty except for a truckload of china waiting to be delivered to a restaurant later today. The janitor found the body during his early morning check-up round and called it in. Griggs was shot twice in the chest, by a semi-automatic handgun which was found inside the warehouse, but about twenty feet from the body. Weapon brought no hit, registration number has been filed off. It's an illegal gun, no chance for us to trace it."

Shawn nodded, taking all this in. "All right. But I still don't understand where I come in."

Juliet picked up from Lassiter. "Basically, it's what you said yesterday. You know, your vision about missing persons."

Shawn struggled to hide a triumphant grin. His chance to look up Eric's file was getting bigger and bigger.

"Right. Why, do you think that somebody who's officially missing committed the murder?"

"We have more than that", Juliet continued. "There was a security camera in the warehouse. Video only, no audio feed. The angle and lighting are not perfect, and it was set on slow rotation through all the warehouse even though only one part of it was used for storage, but we got some pretty good shots of the victim. And of the alleged shooter. We ran his picture through the system, and got a hit in a Missing Persons case."

Shawn frowned. If they had already run the picture, he needed a good reason to access those files again. Besides, if they had identified the shooter, why did Vick still want him involved?

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

Vick spoke again. "Yesterday you said you might get some…readings from looking over the files. Well, we were hoping that you might do exactly that. We know who our shooter is, but with him officially being reported missing, we have trouble finding him. We've put a BOLO out, but somebody who just committed a murder will be careful to avoid the police. Besides, there are other complications."

Shawn frowned again. "What complications?"

With a sigh Vick turned on the TV. The image of a warehouse appeared on the screen. As Juliet had said, the angle wasn't overly good, and it was dark, but the space in front of a group of crates was lightened, probably by a streetlamp outside. Vick touched a key on the remote and the image fast forwarded.

"Here's the victim, Franklin Griggs, entering the warehouse."

Griggs was a nondescript man of maybe forty, forty-five years. He was balding and slightly heavyset. A few moments after he entered the warehouse, he started arguing vividly with somebody off the screen.

"Unfortunately, the camera didn't catch that corner, but I think it's obvious that Griggs and the shooter are arguing."

Shawn nodded and watched. Slowly, the figure of Griggs was moving more and more towards the left side of the screen. He wasn't moving, but the camera was slowly rotating towards the right, filming nothing but the empty and dark space of the warehouse.

"We don't have the shooting on tape", Vick continued. "But when the camera rotates back, we see our shooter standing there, gun still in his hand. Once you see that, you'll understand what I mean by complications."

Shawn watched as the camera slowly rotated back. Maybe one or two minutes after Griggs had vanished from the picture, the camera slowly panned on him again. Only now he was lying on the floor, in front of the crates. There were stains on his shirt now, and blood was slowly pooling out from underneath his body. The camera slowly rotated more to the left, and another figure came into view. The person was standing there, right hand holding a gun by the handle, staring transfixedly at the body on the floor.

Shawn's heart stopped for a beat.

The figure was small, too small to be an adult. It was the small, scrawny figure of a boy, maybe not even a teenager yet. Now he understood what Vick had meant with "complications". The alleged shooter was a kid. That explained the sour mood of the detectives in the room.

Another moment later, the figure suddenly turned and started running towards the exit of the warehouse, off the screen.

Shawn's heart skipped another beat.

He didn't need a freeze image of that scene when the kid had turned towards the camera to know what results the investigation had brought forth so far.

The boy on the screen was Eric.


	5. A question of trust

**Chapter 4 – A question of trust**

Shawn didn't know for how long he kept staring at the monitor, but then suddenly Vick turned off the TV and Shawn tore himself out of his stupor.

"Mr. Spencer, is there anything you can tell us?"

Shawn drew a deep breath, but no words came out. Juliet started to watch him with a worried frown on her face.

"Are you all right, Shawn?"

"Mr. Spencer?", Vick asked. "You look as if you had just seen a ghost."

Shawn shook his head. "That's…that's definitely what I was getting a feeling about yesterday. It's just…it's a strong feeling I'm getting right now, but it's too unspecific. I need a moment."

And without offering another explanation, Shawn stormed out of the Chief's office. Gus looked at the startled faces of the three police officers in front of him for a moment, then he shrugged and hurried after his friend. "We'll be back in just a moment."

He found Shawn in the restroom, supporting himself with both hands on the sink, water running noisily down the drain. Shawn wasn't looking up as Gus entered, and slowly Gus was getting worried. He locked the door behind himself and stepped up to Shawn.

"Are you all right?"

Shawn wordlessly shook his head.

"What's wrong? The way you were staring at that video was scary."

Shawn drew a deep breath, then held his hands into the sink and started splashing his face with cold water. Only when he had dried his face off with a paper towel did he turn around to face Gus.

"The kid."

Gus frowned. "Yeah, that's pretty hard. I mean, the thought that a kid could do something like that is bad, but those things really happen."

Shawn shook his head. "No, you don't understand. That kid on the tape, that was Eric."

Gus' eyes widened. "Eric? The kid who broke into our office?"

"He didn't break in, I left the door unlocked. But yes, that was him."

"Well, then you need to tell the Chief about it. Shawn, this is no longer about finding a runaway's father. If he really shot that guy Griggs, the police need to find him."

Shawn started pacing up and down the restroom. "But I can't believe that he did something like that."

Gus didn't like where this conversation was going. "Shawn, you've only known the kid for two days. I agree that a kid of that age, telling the sad story of being a runaway, that's a story that goes to heart. But fact is you don't really know the kid's background, and neither what he's capable of."

Shawn shook his head. "No, that's not it. I mean, what reason should he have to just shoot a guy? Gus, the two times I saw Eric, he was scared of shadows. He wouldn't be capable of something like that. And he was just searching for his father, for crying out loud!"

Gus sighed deeply. "Even eleven year old kids can pull a trigger, Shawn."

"But he didn't have a reason to do so!"

"You can't know that!"

Shawn growled angrily and kicked at the trash bin under the sink. "I just can't imagine it. It doesn't make any sense, Gus."

"So what are you planning to do now?"

"I don't know." Shawn resumed his pacing again. "I just don't know."

"Shawn, I hope you know that the only thing you can do is tell them all you know, and to alert the police should he try to contact you again."

Shawn ran his hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. "I can't do that, Gus. Not before I talk to him."

"Shawn…"

Shawn shook his head. "Please Gus. Trust me, just this once. I promise that I'll tell Vick everything I know should anything about Eric's story not add up. But I just can't believe that he'd shoot somebody. I know there is more to the story, I only need to figure out what it is."

"I don't like this, Shawn."

Shawn looked Gus straight in the eye.

"Do you trust me?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"Good. Then trust me on this. I promise that I'll go to Vick if there is no doubt that Eric had something to do with the shooting. But I need to talk to him first."

Gus nodded, albeit slowly. "All right. And if you don't do it, I will. But what are you going to tell them now?"

Shawn shook his head. "Not much. I need to get a look into Eric's file, and maybe that way I can even find out more about his father. I just hope that he'll try to contact me tonight, despite of what happened."  
"You better hope he does, otherwise I'll drag you to Vick's office first thing tomorrow morning."

Shawn sighed. "All right, then let's get back. I need to explain how the spirits overwhelmed me."

He unlocked the bathroom door and together the two made their way back to Chief Vick's office.

"Do you have your sensitive spiritual antenna back under control?", Lassiter asked acidly as Shawn and Gus came back into the office.

"I'm sorry Chief, it was a little overwhelming just now."

Lassiter snorted, but upon Chief Vick's glare he masked it off as a cough.

"Believe it or not, Lassie, sometimes visions tend to do that. Just imagine standing in front of a radio playing three stations at once plus white noise in the background, with the volume turned on high."

"You were standing in front of a TV, Spencer", Lassiter sneered. "Probably all you heard _was_ white noise."

Shawn drew breath to answer, but Vick silenced both him and Lassiter with a glare. Then she nodded at Juliet. "Detective O'Hara."

Juliet nodded. "All right, we identified the boy as Erik Robertson. Born October 24th 1995, his mother Holly Robertson reported him missing three weeks ago. He's from L.A., so far we have no idea how he got here, but most probably he hitched a ride. He's never shown up on file before, so we don't know what his motivation could be. We couldn't match his prints since they're not on file, but forensics agreed that the only prints found on the gun are too small to belong to an adult. We have a BOLO out for him and currently officers are handing out flyers with his picture to all shelters and institutions for street kids. That's about it, with no address or school it can become hard to find him."

"What do you figure happened? I mean, why would a kid of that age just shoot a guy?", Gus threw in from the side.

Lassiter shrugged. "It's not the first time something like that happened. Gangs use kids that age more and more often for serious offences, because mostly the judges go easy on the younger children. Now Robertson is not a street kid or a gang member that we know of, but nowadays it's not difficult to get your hands on a gun somewhere. Even for a child. It could be anything, really. Maybe Griggs surprised the kid while doing something illegal, maybe there is a back story we don't know of. Griggs had nothing on his file that would mark him as a child molester, but it might be something like that. Or something as simple as a robbery gone bad. We'll know more once we find the kid and hear what he has to say."

Shawn sighed deeply and put a hand to his temple to try and rub away the building headache. Juliet, however, misinterpreted the movement.

"Are you getting anything, Shawn?"

Shawn closed his eyes. "I'm getting…KitKat, Kitty litter, Cat litter…no, not litter…Stevens. Cat Stevens."

"Cat Stevens", Lassiter repeated, his voice filled with scepticism. "What do you want us to do, build a campfire and break out the guitars, hoping that the kid might show up if we only sing loud enough?"

"Music!" Shawn exclaimed and with his eyes still closed started humming the first bars of "_Father and Son_".

Juliet frowned. "_Morning has broken_?"

Shawn resisted the urge to open his eyes and roll them. "Father…and son. Something about his father, his father is important. You need to find his father."

Juliet started scanning Eric's file. "No father on the birth certificate. His mother Holly Robertson, née Wilkes, married Stan Robertson in December 1996. Before that, Eric's name was also Wilkes. But it doesn't say here whether Robertson is the biological father or not." She closed the file. "We should ask the mother about that."

Vick nodded. "Yes, but first we need to inform her that her son has been sighted in Santa Barbara. O'Hara, go and e-mail an image of the boy on the surveillance tape over to the precinct in which the Robertsons live. They shall go to the mother for an ID. Face only, no need for the mother to see the gun."

Juliet nodded and headed out of the office.

"There's another father", Shawn said, hands on his temple again. "The mother might lie at first, but there's another father."

"All right, Mr. Spencer, is there anything else you can give us?"

Shawn breathed deeply a couple of times. "No. Not right now. It's all so confusing, Chief. The images I get are…distorted. They don't immediately make sense. But I'll let you know as soon as I can make sense of something else."

Lassiter chuckled. "You making sense of something would be a first."

Shawn turned towards the head detective. "Somebody drank far too much of their usual cranky-juice this morning."

"That happens when you're investigating murder scenes at six in the morning, Spencer!", Lassiter spat.

"Gentlemen", Vick interrupted them. "I'm sure you both have work to do."

"Of course, Chief", Lassiter said and vanished out of Vick's office.

"Mr. Spencer?"

"With your permission, Chief, I'd like to stay until detective O'Hara has the results of her call. Maybe I'll get something more when I know the father's name."

"All right, Mr. Spencer, but stay out of Detective Lassiter's way. I need him focussed on his work right now, this is all bad enough."

"Sure thing, Chief." Shawn turned towards Gus. "Come on, let's get a coffee while we wait."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

But Juliet's inquiry didn't come back with any name for Eric's father. The police in Los Angeles received the picture still of Eric from the surveillance tape, and Eric's mother positively identified the boy on the picture as her son, but that was about it. Shawn listened to Juliet's phone call with the police officer in L.A., and he saw how her face was contorting more and more into a frustrated frown. Finally, she thanked the officer and hung up.

"Any results?", Shawn asked.

Juliet shook her head. "Positive ID, I'm sure you heard that part. But nothing on the father angle. Mrs. Robertson admitted openly that her husband isn't the biological father, but she claims that she has no name or address for the real one." Juliet shrugged. "It seems like a dead end."

"But it is important, I know it", Shawn insisted.

"Well, the good news is that the Robertsons are both coming over to Santa Barbara now. Then we can question her ourselves, maybe we'll get a little farther that way."

For a moment, Shawn contemplated to have another vision, one that would reveal what little information Eric had given him about his father, but he decided to let that wait for the moment. For now, it was important that he found Eric and that the boy told him what had happened last night.

Shawn didn't believe that the scared kid he had met had murdered somebody, but what little evidence the police had pointed towards Eric. There would be no dragging off in cuffs, and no immediate prison lock-up for an eleven year old, but a murder charge was serious. And seeing how scared Eric had been of the police simply for being a runaway, Shawn imagined the boy was absolutely terrified now.

Shawn cursed himself for not insisting on taking Eric with him the previous evening. Then all that crap would not have happened to the boy. And he would know where to find Eric now. But he had let the kid go, and now he could only wait for the boy to contact him again. And after all that had transpired, Shawn wasn't so sure anymore that Eric would do that.

"So what are you going to do now?", he asked Juliet.

She shrugged. "We'll wait for forensics to come back with everything they found on the crime scene. We'll look more closely into the victim, try to figure out a motive for the murder. And if the officers canvassing the homeless shelters don't find Eric there, we'll probably give his picture to the press, to have it released in the papers. Finding a child in Santa Barbara is like the proverbial needle in the haystack. We'll need public help or a big, fat coincidence to find him. We'll tell the press that we're searching for him as a crucial witness in that murder case, and we'll give them his picture. That's about all we can do."

Shawn didn't like the idea of Eric's face on the front page of every paper. If anything, it would scare the boy away from contacting Shawn again for fear of being recognised by somebody. But he knew that no protest from his side would stop what was usual police procedure in that kind of situation.

Shawn doubted that Eric would hide out in one of the public shelters after what had happened during the past night, so if the police didn't find him by accident, by tomorrow morning his face would be all over the papers. Which left Shawn exactly until then to find him.

He'd better get started.

"Please let me know if you find anything, Jules. Any new information will help me channel the spirits better."

Juliet nodded absent-mindedly and Shawn led Gus out of the police station.

Once they sat in the car, Gus put the key into the ignition and looked at his friend. "So, what now?"

Shawn shook his head. "I need to find Eric."

"You and half the city, yes."

"Problem is, if the police truly publish his picture in the paper tomorrow, I'm sure he's not going to show up again. I need to find him before that happens."

Gus pulled a face. "Do you really think it's going to be easy to find him? I mean, you said he was scared when he heard that you were working for the police. After what happened last night, that probably only got worse. It's one thing if he comes to you to ask for help in looking for his father. But what happened last night is far more serious than that. Do you really think he trusts you enough to come to you after that?"

Shawn shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. But he came to me for help once, I can only hope that he'll come to me for help again. You have rounds to do this afternoon, don't you?"

Gus nodded. "I have to start in about an hour. Do you want me to drop by at the office after that?"

Shawn bit his lip. "Yesterday, Eric waited until you were gone before he showed up. I told him that you were okay, I just don't know if he bought it. So it might be better if I was alone at the office. But there's another thing."  
"What?"

"If he shows up, I might have to get him somewhere else. The police station, or my apartment, whatever. Depending on what he tells me. But whatever, I can hardly drive him around on my bike."

Gus gave an exasperated eye-roll. "I'm sure that if you call the police as soon as he shows up, they'll gladly come and fetch him."

"Gus, the kid is fast. Really fast. Like lightning. Maybe he's The Flash. If he so much as guesses that I'm calling the police, he'll be halfway to Tijuana before I even hang up."

Gus sighed. Deeply. "All right. I'll drop off the car after my rounds. But you're going to pay for the cab."

"Deal. Thanks Gus."

"Don't mention it. And just for the record, I'm only doing this for you. Personally, I think the police are more than capable of clearing this issue up, without traumatising the kid."

"I know. But trust me on this one, there's more to this story than what was on that surveillance tape."

"If you say so", Gus said, then he started the car and started the drive towards the office.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

If there was one thing Shawn hated, it was waiting. But there was hardly anything else he could do. After Gus dropped him off at the office, he kept the door slightly ajar as an invitation should Eric come by, then he fixed himself a coffee, booted up the computer and started the wait.

Space Invaders lost its appeal after Shawn beat his personal high score. Besides, he was afraid that if he played only one more level, he'd start looking up into the sky for cube-like space ships jerking down towards earth in orderly lines. He surfed the net for some time, set some bids on e-bay, ordered a couple of DVDs and drank some more coffee. In between, he always snuck glances out the corner of his eyes towards the windows, hoping to catch Eric standing in front of the office looking in. But he was always disappointed.

Gus dropped off the car and keys at five.

At five-thirty, it started to rain, heavily.

At six, Shawn ordered Chinese takeout.

At six-thirty, the food arrived.

Shawn ate, surfed the net some more, read a couple of magazines, listened to a CD, then he started playing Pac Man online.

At quarter past eleven, Shawn gave up. It had been dark for over two hours now. The street outside and the beach promenade had been empty ever since it started raining, and Shawn figured that if Eric hadn't seized that opportunity until now, he probably wouldn't come.

As he grabbed his jacket and keys, Shawn contemplated for a moment to leave the office door unlocked for the night, just in case Eric would show up later. But merely the thought about Gus' reaction to finding out about that made him forget the idea again. Eric would have to find a way to leave a message if h came here, Shawn couldn't stay here for the entire night.

He locked up and got into Gus' car. On his way home, Shawn caught himself staring at every dark corner, at every of the few people on the sidewalks, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eric. But there was no trace of him.

Finally, Shawn pulled the car into a spot in front of his apartment building and got out. He got his backpack and locked up the car, then went towards the door, still struggling with his disappointment. He had really thought that Eric would come back to him for help. But obviously, he had been wrong.

With a sigh, Shawn let himself into the house and climbed the two flights of stairs towards his apartment. He was just about to unlock the door to his apartment when a shadow detached itself from a dark corner towards his left and moved towards him.

Shawn caught the movement from the corner of his eyes and spun around.

As he saw who was standing there, pale, shaking and thoroughly wet, he sighed.

"I've been waiting for you at the office for hours. How did you find out where I live?"

"Phone book", Eric stammered, not meeting Shawn's eyes. There were obvious tear-tracks on his face, his hands were nervously clenching and unclenching at his side, and it was obvious that his shaking didn't come merely from the wet state of his clothes. "I…I didn't know where to go, I…I don't know…it's all…I didn't want to…something happened. I…think I'm in trouble."

New tears were running down Eric's face, and Shawn quickly unlocked his apartment door.

"I know. Come on in."

Hesitantly, Eric went into the apartment, but as soon as Shawn closed the door, the boy fell apart. He just sank down right where he stood, back against the wall, arms wrapped around his head, sobbing his heart out while he rocked back and forth.

Shawn didn't quite know what to do. He wasn't all that experienced in dealing with kids, let alone kids who were obviously just having a breakdown, but he figured that doing nothing was the worst decision right now. So he crouched down in front of the sobbing boy and gently tried to pry his arms away from his head.

"Eric, listen to me. I need you to tell me what happened last night."

Eric shook his head, struggling against Shawn's attempts to pull his arms away from his head. Shawn let go.

"I can't. I just can't. Please don't call the police. Don't call the police, it's all going to worse if you call the police. Please don't call the police."

"Eric, look at me."

"Don't call the police", Eric iterated, completely oblivious to Shawn's words.

"Eric, please look at me", Shawn insisted.

"Not the police, please. Not the police."

"Eric", Shawn said, a little sharper this time, though he took great care not to raise his voice. Eric stopped talking, though he still didn't look up.

"Please look at me, Eric."

Slowly, Eric raised his head and a pair of red-rimmed blue eyes looked at Shawn insecurely from beneath his bangs of hair.

"I won't call the police, all right? You're safe here. I won't harm you. But I need you to tell me what happened. Do you understand?"

Eric nodded, still crying. Gently, Shawn put a hand on his shoulder.

"Good. But first, we need to take care of you. When was the last time you ate?"

Eric shrugged.

"Did you sleep last night?"

A wordless shake of the head.

Shawn got up from his crouch and stretched out a hand to help Eric up. The boy scrambled to his feet, but didn't take the offered hand.

"All right, first things first. Bathroom is down here, the door on the left. I want you to go and take a hot shower. We need to get you warmed up before you catch something. I'm afraid my stock on clothes your size is nonexistent, but I'll find something to wear for you. Then I'm going to make you something to eat, and _then_ you'll tell me what happened, all right? And once you've done that, we'll figure out a way to deal with it. That okay?"

Eric nodded, hesitantly. But he nodded, that was all Shawn wanted.

"Good, then come on."

Shawn went down the hall and into the bathroom. He put out a towel for Eric, then went into his bedroom and started browsing the closet. Small clothes really were a rarity in there, but he finally found a shirt he no longer fit in after a little accident with the dryer, and a pair of shorts which would probably serve as full-length trousers for Eric. He'd put Eric's clothes in the washer and dryer in the basement later, then the kid would have to wear something tomorrow.

In the bathroom the shower was running, so Shawn knocked shortly, then opened the door just far enough to deposit the clothes on the rim of the sink. While Eric got finished, he'd need to fix up something to eat.

Which was yet another problem. Much unlike his Dad, Shawn wasn't exactly a five-star cook. Between mooching dinners with his father, Shawn mostly survived on takeout. But fortunately, he had stacked on frozen dinners at the beginning of the week, so by the time Eric came out of the bathroom, his dinner was already spinning rounds in the microwave.

Eric entered the living room shyly, Shawn's clothes hanging loosely off his scrawny frame. Shawn was glad that the shorts had a drawstring, otherwise they'd probably fall off with the first step.

"Go ahead and sit down, dinner is finished in a minute."

As the microwave beeped, Shawn took out the lasagne, poured some milk into a glass and put it on the living room table. Like on the two previous evenings, Eric devoured his dinner with the intensity of a starving wolf. Shawn guessed that getting as much nutrition as possible was an ingrained habit of children, despite their mental state. He watched wordlessly as Eric ate and finished off his glass of milk.

"Better?", Shawn asked after Eric had finished.

"Yes", came the soft reply.

"Good. If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Okay."

Shawn drew a deep breath. "All right. We need to talk about what happened during the past days. I know that it's probably not easy, but I promise that I'm going to listen to what you have to say. And I'm not going to call the police. You came to me for help, you can trust me, okay?"

A wordless nod was all the answer he received.

"Good. Here's what I know. At some point after you ran away from the office yesterday, you ended up in a warehouse on Wilson Boulevard. A security camera caught a man called Franklin Griggs come into the warehouse, and then it recorded how he started arguing with somebody who wasn't visible on the screen. The camera pans away, and as it pans back after a little more than a minute, Griggs is lying on the floor, shot, and you are standing there with a gun in your hand. Now, I don't believe you'd be able to shoot somebody, but I need to know what happened. The police are looking for you."

Something haunted crossed Eric's eyes as Shawn mentioned the police, and he seemed to shrink in on himself.

Shawn tried to make his presence as little threatening as possible. "Why don't you tell me what happened, in your own time. How about you start by telling me where you've been staying these past nights?"

Eric drew a deep breath. "Here and there. I met a couple of kids who told me about a place downtown where kids like me could stay."

"A shelter", Shawn supplied.

Eric nodded. "Yes. St. Agnes'. Run by some church or other. They give you a place to stay, and a sandwich, and they ask no questions if you come just once. But I stayed there two nights in a row, and if you come that often, they try to start talking to you. I…I didn't want that. And then one of those kids at the shelter told me about those warehouses. They said that sometimes they're kept unlocked if they weren't in use, and that I only needed to watch out for the cameras. So I tried it there, and there was this one warehouse where the door opened." Eric shrugged. "So I got in. There were some crates in there, which I thought odd, because the door was open, but I just stayed out of sight of the camera and hid away behind the crates. A few minutes later, the door opened. I…well, I got scared that somebody would find me, so I hid away and stayed silent. Somebody came in, but they didn't look around, so I thought I could just wait it out. But then this other guy came in, and the two started yelling at each other."

Shawn's heart started beating faster. "There were two men in that warehouse?"

Eric nodded.

"What were they fighting about?"

"I don't know. Really. Something about money, and that the guy who came in first could make some serious trouble for the other one if he didn't pay. They yelled at each other. I only wanted to take a peek and see if there was any way that I could sneak out. They…they were scaring me. But just as I looked out, the guy who came in first pulled out a gun and…and…" Eric's voice caught in his throat and new tears started running down his face.

Shawn pulled his chair closer to Eric and gently put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's all right."

"He shot him!", Eric sobbed and buried his face in his hands. "He shot him. One moment, that guy is standing there, and then…there was all that blood…"

"Hey, it's okay", Shawn said and pulled Eric against his side. "You're safe now, nobody is going to hurt you."  
"He just shot him", Eric repeated, totally oblivious to what Shawn was saying.

"And then he left?"

Eric nodded.

"Why did you pick up the gun?"

Eric shrugged and shook his head at the same time. "I don't know", he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I did. After…after the other guy left it was lying there, on the floor. And the other guy still wasn't moving. I…I thought that if I only looked at it, I'd see that it was a toy, and that it all wasn't true. But it wasn't. And…the next thing I know is that I was running down the street. I didn't think about the camera anymore. Only later. The police had to be searching for me. So I hid away. I…I thought about going back to your office, but I didn't dare to go downtown. So I looked you up in the phonebook and made my way here. It took long to get here because I was looking out for the police." Suddenly, Eric looked up into Shawn's eyes. "I didn't do it, you have to believe me. I only wanted a place to stay for the night, that's all. Please, you have to believe me!"

Shawn gently squeezed Eric's shoulder.

"I believe you, Eric. I know it's hard, but you need to calm down now. You need to get rest now, some real sleep. And tomorrow morning, we're going to figure out what to do about it, all right?"

Eric nodded. "Okay."

"Good. Go and take my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

"I can take the sofa, that's okay."

Shawn shook his head. "How long since you've slept in a real, comfortable bed?" Eric shrugged, which caused Shawn to smile. "So that's decided. Go to bed. I'll be out here if you need anything."

Eric got up from his chair and walked over towards the door. He was nearly out of the room when he turned around again. "Shawn?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shawn smiled. "You're welcome. Now go and sleep."

"Good night."  
"'Night."

Eric vanished into the bedroom and Shawn started to clear away the dishes. There was another reason why he preferred to sleep on the sofa tonight. That way, he could make sure that Eric didn't sneak out while he was asleep.

Though Shawn doubted that he'd get any real rest tonight. Something Eric had said actually had him pretty worried. There had been a second man in that warehouse. The good news was that this meant Eric wasn't the shooter. Not that Shawn had believed that for just one moment. But the bad news was that there was a murderer out on the loose in Santa Barbara.

And by tomorrow morning, every newspaper in the city would tell that murderer that there had been a witness in the warehouse that night, and it would give him Eric's name and picture to work with.


	6. Hiding from the police 101

**Chapter 5 – ****What they should teach at school: Hiding from the police 101**

In the end, the day had exhausted Shawn so much that he finally fell asleep on the couch. He had taken great care to lock the door and take out the key, just to make sure that Eric didn't pull yet another disappearing act on him despite everything.

He woke up pretty early for his standards, and the first thing he did was check on Eric. The bedroom door stood slightly ajar, and as he opened it carefully, Shawn found Eric in the middle of the bed, his entire body wrapped up in the blanket, hair poking out at the top, fast asleep. With a smile Shawn silently pulled the door closed again and went into the kitchen to get some coffee going. He figured that Eric wouldn't be too keen to coffee, but milk would have to do. Shawn didn't have any tea or hot chocolate in his cupboards, so he'd have to make do with what he had.

He decided to let Eric sleep in after what he had been through the past two days, and popped two slices of bread into the toaster for breakfast. Just as he wanted to go out and get the paper, there was a knock on the door. With a frown, Shawn turned back towards the bedroom to make sure that the door was closed, then he opened the front door a slight bit.

"Good morning, Shawn."

"Jules! That's…what a surprise to see you here. So early. And so…unannounced."

Juliet's smile faltered a little. "Am I interrupting something?"

Shawn quickly shook his head. "No, of course not. It's just that I only got up a minute ago. My social skills need at least half an hour, a coffee and a shower to boot up."

He flashed her a smile and the look of uncertainty vanished from Juliet's face. "I won't keep you long. I only came over here to bring you a copy of the file. Chief Vick asked you to take a look at it, see if you get anything. We're at a loss, to be honest. Forensics didn't bring forth any useable results, and our canvassing hasn't brought forth any trace of Eric Robertson, either. Well, we found a shelter where they recognised his picture, but he hasn't been there for over a day. So we're hoping you might get something from what's in the file while we investigate Griggs further."

She held the file out to Shawn who took it with a smile. "Thanks Jules. I'll let you know immediately should I get anything new."

Juliet flashed him another smile, then she seemed to remember something. "Oh, and I brought your paper from downstairs. A neighbour was just leaving as I came in, and I saw it sticking out of your mailbox on my way to the stairs."

Shawn took the offered paper. "Thanks Jules. I'll call in later."

Juliet nodded. "Thanks. Bye Shawn."

"Bye."

Juliet turned around, obviously a bit confused by the fact that throughout their conversation Shawn hadn't opened the door more than three inches, then she went down the corridor and took the stairs down. With a sigh of relief, Shawn closed the door and tossed the file and newspaper onto the coffee table.

He started when his eyes suddenly fell on Eric standing in the bedroom doorway, staring at Shawn from wide eyes.

"Good morning", he said after he had collected himself a little.

Eric's eyes were darting from the front door towards Shawn and back again. "Who…who was that?"

Shawn went into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee and put the toast onto two plates. "Come here and sit down. Breakfast is ready." Shawn opened the fridge and rummaged around until he located some butter that was still edible, a quart of milk, a jar of jelly and some peanut butter. As he put those on the kitchen table, he noticed that Eric was still standing in the same spot, still staring silently. He sighed.

"Eric, please come over here. I'll explain while you eat."

Hesitantly, Eric came over into the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs. He reached for the knife and spread some butter on the toast, but still he was eyeing Shawn warily.

Shawn drank some coffee. "All right. I want you to listen to me until the end, all right? I didn't lie to you yesterday when I said I wouldn't call the police. I didn't. The woman who was just here is called Juliet. She's a friend of mine. And she's also a police detective."

The toast stopped halfway towards Eric's mouth, and Shawn could literally read the thoughts about flight in the boy's eyes. He quickly put up two pacifying hands, but something about that movement must have spooked Eric further because he started and shied away from Shawn.

"Whoa, stop. Eric, listen to me. I didn't call Juliet. She came here, unannounced, to give me a file. They want me to work on the case of that murder you witnessed. But I didn't tell her anything about you. I didn't tell her that you are here. I didn't even let her into the apartment so that she wouldn't see you."

Eric was still looking ready to bolt, and Shawn sank back in his chair with a sigh.

"I've helped you so far, and I'm going to help you until all this is over. I know that it's hard because you hardly know me, but you simply have to trust me. Okay?"

Eric shrugged awkwardly, then decided to focus his attention on his toast instead. It wasn't the answer Shawn had wanted to hear, but it was probably all he would get for now.

"All right, here's the plan. I'll pop some more bread into the toaster, you go ahead and have breakfast while I look into the paper, and then we're going to think about what we're going to do. That sound okay?"

Eric nodded. "Okay."

"Good. I'll take a quick shower. Just promise you'll still be here by the time I get out again."

Eric rolled his eyes and nodded. "Promise."

"Good."

Still Shawn hurried with the shower. He wasn't entirely pacified by Eric's promise not to run away. However, when he got out of the bathroom, Eric was still in the kitchen, washing off his plate in the sink.

"Wow, you should drop by more often", he said as he walked back into the kitchen.

Eric just shrugged and stood a little awkwardly right in the middle of the kitchen.

"I forgot to put your clothes in the dryer yesterday, so I'm afraid you're stuck with those shorts and shirt."

"That's all right", Eric said with yet another shrug. Shawn vowed to look up shrugs on the internet. Maybe there was some sort of secret language code he was missing here.

Shawn poured himself another coffee as Eric vanished into the bathroom to wash up. As he sat down at the kitchen table and unfolded the paper, his stomach turned a little. There, on the upper front page, Eric's picture was staring back at him. It was the freeze shot taken from the security camera tape, but a shot that only showed Eric's face and shoulders. The gun in his hand had been conveniently cut out of the picture.

Below the picture, the headline read in bold letters **Police search for witness in warehouse murder**. Shawn stared at the picture for a moment, then stated to read the article.

_In connection with the murder that occurred in a warehouse on Wilson Boulevard two nights ago, the Santa Barbara Police ask the public for help in the search of a material witness. Eric Robertson (see above picture), an eleven year old runaway from Los Angeles, has been seen at the scene of the crime, but so far the police have failed to locate him._

_Robertson is sought as material witness to the murder of Franklin Griggs (45), an importer of pottery wares with offices in downtown Santa Barbara. Griggs was shot in one of his warehouses at some point Tuesday night and his body was discovered the following morning._

_The police are insistent that they are searching for Robertson as a witness whose statement could be crucial to the investigation of this case. Anybody who has information on the whereabouts of Eric Robertson is asked to contact the Santa Barbara Police Department immediately. The police strongly advice against approaching Robertson directly._

_The SBPD has established a phone hotline for information about this case. The number is 280-555-1010._

With a sigh Shawn put down the paper. This was bad. If Eric's picture was on the front page of the _Times_, it would also be on the front page of the _Post_. Which meant that nearly every inhabitant of Santa Barbara would see it at some point today, even if it was just while passing a newsstand. Grainy security tape pictures on the top half of the front page had a habit of catching attention.

Shawn wasn't surprised that the police were officially searching for Eric as a material witness. Considering what he had seen on the security tape, surely they were investigating the possibility that Eric had shot Griggs. But they would be pretty stupid to tell that to the papers. The police never did. Telling the media that they were searching for a suspect was only done in case that suspect posed a threat to public security. Otherwise the only result was a witch hunt with everybody trying to bring the suspect down on their own to get a shot at a possible reward. And if the suspect was an eleven year old, it was far easier to bring him down.

But nevertheless, the article hardly left any doubt that the police were searching for Eric urgently. Most probably the hotline was already swamped with nonsense calls and sightings of Eric that were no sightings at all, but that wouldn't hold for long. The people working those hotlines were experienced enough to filter out most of the crank calls immediately. It was up to Shawn now to make sure that nobody saw Eric before he had the chance to figure out who the second man in that warehouse had been. And he needed to make sure that the true shooter had no chance of finding out where Eric was.

Problem was, Eric couldn't stay here. Not for long, anyway.

Shawn was living in a big apartment building. And while the people living here mostly stuck to their own business, you were never sure when the next neighbour might ring the bell because of some thing or other. Especially Mrs. Weinstock from 24a was extremely nosy. No, Shawn needed to get Eric to a place where there were no nosy neighbours. He already had a place in mind, but there were some complications he needed to overcome first.

Shawn put down the paper as his cell phone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"Did you see the paper this morning?"

Shawn leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes Gus, I did. And I don't like it."

"Did you have any success with your wait at the office yesterday?"

"Not really. Well, not at the office."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The doubt was obvious in Gus' voice.

"He didn't come to the office, but when I came home he was waiting in front of my apartment."

"How'd he find out where you live?"

"Phone book, Gus. My apartment is not exactly Area 51."

Gus was silent for a moment, and Shawn could practically see him trying to overcome his frustration at Shawn.

"And what now?"

"How about you meet me at my Dad's in half an hour?"

There was another moment of silence, longer this time.

"Your Dad's? Shawn, are you nuts?"

"Listen Gus, I can't leave Eric alone, but there's a lot of stuff I need to go and figure out. Besides, nobody is going to search for him at my Dad's place. I'll tell you everything that happened, but I'd rather not do it on the phone."

Gus sighed deeply. "All right, I meet you there. I wouldn't want to miss _this_ for the world."

"See you later."

But Gus had already hung up. Shawn put down the phone only to find that Eric had come back from the bathroom already. He should have paid better attention, because now he no longer could prevent the boy from seeing the paper's headline. Eric had gone pale and his blue eyes were wide as he stared down at his own face on the front page of the newspaper.

"The police…they've published my picture?"

Shawn nodded. "Yes. Which is why we can't stay here, Eric."

The wide eyes turned towards Shawn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Calm down. I promised I'd help you, and that hasn't changed. But here there's just too many people around here, the danger that somebody might accidentally see you is too big. Especially now, that all people are looking for you. And I need to find out who that second man in the warehouse was, but for that I need to make sure that you're somewhere safe."

"And where is that supposed to be?"

Shawn sighed. "My Dad's house."

A frown settled on Eric's face. "Doesn't sound as if you think that it's the best place for me to stay."

Shawn shook his head. "It's not that. I know you'll be safe with my Dad. It's just that first I need to explain everything to him, and that might not be too easy."

"I can stay here, it's no problem. You can just leave me here, I promise I won't go out."

Shawn shook his head again. "No chance, kid. You've pulled the disappearing act on me one too many times. Besides, with the police looking out for you I won't leave you alone. Period. My Dad might seem a little grumpy at first, but once he understands what's at stake here he'll watch out for you." He didn't tell Eric about the murderer who by now must have gotten to know that his deed had been witnessed by an eleven year old boy. If Eric didn't figure it out on his own, Shawn wouldn't worry him about it. He only needed to make his Dad listen, once his father understood the stakes he'd agree to watch out for Eric, that Shawn was sure of.

He got up from his chair. "All right, go and grab your clothes, we'll put them in the washer and dryer at my Dad's place."

He searched the drawers in the kitchen until he found a plastic bag for the clothes, and five minutes later they were ready to go. Before he opened the door, Shawn handed a baseball cap to Eric.

"Put that on. I parked Gus' car directly in front of the house, but at this time of day we might very well run into somebody. Just keep your head down and don't look at anybody."

"Okay." Eric put on the cap.

Shawn grabbed his keys and the file Juliet had brought over earlier, then he opened the apartment door. Hurriedly, he steered Eric along the corridor and down the stairs. Just as they were passing the mailboxes, the front door opened and an elderly lady stepped into the hallway. Shawn suppressed a groan and put a hand on Eric's neck to gently remind the boy about keeping his head down.

Shawn tried to steer Eric past the old lady as quickly as possible, but she was having none of it.

"Good morning, Mr. Spencer."

"Good morning, Mrs. Weinstock. Sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Oh, of course. And where are you and your young visitor going to at such an early hour? The weather should hold up for another few hours. Are you going to the zoo? Or the park? And who is that young man, anyway? You never told me you had a son."

Shawn smiled at her, though he was sure it looked more like a pained grimace. "I really have no time to chat, Mrs. Weinstock. The next time, maybe. Have a nice day."

And with an arm around Eric's shoulder he brushed past the old lady and out onto the street. Quickly, he unlocked the car and hustled the boy into the passenger seat.

The drive to Henry's house was a silent affair. Eric stared out of the window, and Shawn was too lost in thought to make conversation. When they finally pulled up in front of Henry's house, Shawn was a little relieved to find that his father's truck was not there. Probably he was out shopping or something, that would give Shawn some time to prepare himself for the explanations that he'd have to make.

They got out of the car and stepped up onto the porch.

"Seems like nobody is home", Eric remarked.

"My Dad won't be gone for long. But let's get in before somebody sees us."

Shawn was glad that his father had finally, after long weeks of discussion, relented and given Shawn a spare key to the house. It had taken a lot of pointing out the most horrible emergencies which might just end deadly if Shawn didn't have said key for Henry to relent, though Shawn assumed that in the end he had merely given in to stop Shawn from pestering him.

He quickly unlocked the door, ushered Eric into the house and led him into the kitchen.

"Can I get you anything?"

Eric shook his head. "No, thanks. What do we do now?"

"We wait. My friend Gus will be here soon." Seeing Eric's slightly panicked expression, Shawn hurried to calm the boy again. "I told you that Gus is all right. You don't need to worry about him, and I need his help in finding out who that second guy in the warehouse was. Then we wait for my Dad, explain everything to him, and then I'll go and try to find the other guy, I guess."

It sounded a lot less calming and convincing now that he said it out loud, but basically that was all Shawn could do. Somehow, he'd also need to convince the police that there had been a second man in the warehouse that night, to get them searching on the right track.

Shawn went to the fridge and pulled out two sodas when there was the sound of a car pulling up outside. It didn't sound like his father's truck so he gestured for Eric to stay put and went over to peer out of the front door.

It was a cab that had pulled up in front of the house, and after a moment Gus got out of the car and walked over towards the front door. Shawn opened it before his friend even had the chance to knock and ushered him in.

"Where is Eric?", Gus said without a word of greeting.

"In the kitchen. Come along."

Shawn led Gus through the living room and into the kitchen, where Eric was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at Gus with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching truck.

"Eric, this is my friend Gus. I told you about him. Gus, this is Eric."

"Hey", Gus said, his voice friendly.

Eric was still staring up at Gus with a worried expression on his face. "Hi", he mumbled.

"Can I talk to you for a second?", Gus asked Shawn, and without waiting for an answer pulled him out of the kitchen by the sleeve of his shirt.

"What's wrong?", Shawn hissed as they reached the living room and he freed himself from Gus' grasp.

"What's wrong? I wanted to ask you that. Could it be that you haven't really thought this through? Shawn, half the city is searching for Eric. It's not only in the papers, local news have been flashing his picture every half hour since this morning. You'll be in deep shit if this ever comes out, and by the looks of it, this won't be easy to be kept a secret."

"But it needs to be kept a secret, Gus. He didn't shoot that guy, and he is in danger."

"Then let the police protect him. If he didn't shoot that man, all the better."

Shawn shook his head. "I don't know if they'd believe him, Gus. Juliet came by this morning, she said that forensics from the crime scene didn't bring any new information for the investigation. So there's no reason for them to believe Eric. They'll think he's trying to talk himself out of it."

Gus drew a deep breath. "So what does he say happened? Why was he even there?"

"He was searching for a place to sleep, nothing else. There was a second man in the warehouse, that was who Griggs was arguing with. And that was who shot Griggs."

Gus frowned. "Then why did he pick up the gun?"

"Because he was in shock? Gus, he's an eleven year old who just witnessed a murder. I don't think you can judge his behaviour logically. And that's not what really worries me."

"What is?"

"Well, since the police's news flash this morning, our murderer knows that Eric was in the warehouse that night. He'll be hell-bent on getting to him before the police do."

"Damn." Gus ran a hand over his head. "But still I'd feel better about it if you called somebody. You don't need to tell the Chief, but at least let Juliet know about it. They're wasting time and resources searching for Eric, they could focus that on other parts of the investigation. Besides, I don't really want to know what kind of trouble you'll get into for hiding a fugitive of justice!"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Come on Gus, don't you think you're exaggerating…"

"Who is hiding a fugitive?", another voice cut in. Startled, both Shawn and Gus spun around to see Henry standing in the doorway, brown grocery bag in one hand and closing the door with the other. It seemed he had only caught the tail end of their conversation, but that just _had_ to be the part where Gus was pulling out the verbal big guns. The look on Henry's face could have frozen boiling water.

Shawn forced a smile. "Dad! Good morning to you! Come on, let me take that bag, with your back you shouldn't be carrying anything heavy."

Henry barely managed to keep Shawn from taking the bag out of his hand.

"Shawn! What was that Gus said about hiding a fugitive? What in blazes have you gotten yourself into now?"

"Dad, Gus was only joking. Me, hiding a fugitive of justice, come on. You know me."

Henry frowned. "Yes, I do. So what is going on here? And if I don't get an answer soon, preferably the truth, I'm going to call Karen and ask her what Gus could have been talking about."

Shawn sighed. "All right. But please, listen to the whole story first. I take it you haven't read the paper or watched the news this morning?"

Henry shook his head, but then his eyes focussed on something behind Shawn's shoulder. "Who's this?", he asked, and when he turned, Shawn found that Eric was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the three men from wide eyes.

Shawn quickly made a few steps over towards the boy. "Dad, this is Eric. Eric, this is my father, Henry Spencer."

The frown on Henry's face turned into a look of recognition. "That's the kid you told me about, right?"

Eric turned towards Shawn. "You told him about me, too? Is there anybody you didn't tell about me?"

"Yes, the police for example. And now why don't we all go into the kitchen, sit down, and give me a chance to explain this?"

Henry grunted something that counted for an agreement, then he went into the kitchen and got some coffee going. "All right, I'm listening. Explain."

As Henry started to unpack his groceries, Shawn explained. All the while, he was keeping a sharp eye on Eric. Since Gus and Henry had arrived, the boy looked as if he was only waiting for an opportunity to bolt. Obviously, it was a bit too much to deal with for him right now.

Shawn told the entire story, but without explicitly mentioning that the police were treating Eric as a suspect now. He was sure that his father understood the true intention behind the police's media release, and he thought that if Eric worried just a bit more, he'd have a seizure or something.

When Shawn had finished, Henry leaned back in his chair and just stared at his son. After a moment, Shawn started to feel uncomfortable under that gaze. "What is it?"

Henry got up. "Come with me, Shawn."

Leaving Shawn no chance but to comply, Henry went out the kitchen and into the living room. He closed the door behind them, then crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Are you raving mad, Shawn? Were you drunk yesterday? I honestly hope you were, then at least you might get off with a plea of temporary insanity!"

"Dad, you don't understand…"

"Oh I understand all right. I understand that you're hiding a material witness in a murder case. What I don't understand, what I really, for the life of me can't understand, is why!"

"Dad, I believe Eric."

Henry rolled his eyes. "So?"

"If another man shot Griggs, he now knows that Eric is a witness. He'll try to find him."

"Yes, I know that Shawn. All the more reason to get Eric to the police as fast as possible."

Shawn shook his head. "He's dead scared of going to the police, Dad. He'll run. Besides, the police have absolutely no evidence that would make them believe Eric. The other man isn't on the tape, they'll think he's just making that up to save his own skin."

Henry ran a hand through his short hair with a sigh. "Shawn, you do realise the kind of trouble you'll get into for this. What is your plan? That I'm going to baby-sit the boy while you go out and search for the mysterious shooter?" Seeing the look in his son's eyes, he shook his head. "No. No, Shawn. I'm serious. I won't do it. What about the boy's parents? They have to be worried sick about him, and the police surely will have notified them that he's been sighted in Santa Barbara. If you don't want to call the police, call his parents."

Shawn shook his head. "No. He's just as scared of his parents than he's of the police. I don't know what's going on there, but calling his parents would be just as bad as calling the police."

Henry sighed in frustration. "Shawn, I don't know what game you're playing here, but I'm telling you you're wrong. If this is about you having sympathies for a fellow runaway, I can only tell you to stop it. This boy is in deep trouble, you're not helping him any with what you're doing."

"This isn't about me!"

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? Because it damn sure looks like it. You think you're a lot more closely involved than you actually are, Shawn. That boy in there did what you tried to do twenty years ago, only that he succeeded. And now you're trying to be the understanding buddy figure you were hoping to find somewhere along the way when you ran away. Only you never got as far as leaving town!"

"No!", Shawn yelled with a ferocity of which he didn't even know where it came from. Henry started, taken aback. "You still don't understand it one bit, Dad. This is not about me thinking Eric is like I was back then. When I mentioned his parents to him, Eric looked ready and willing to do anything to stop me from calling them. He wasn't just scared, he was _terrified_.

I ran away because I was angry. Angry at you, but not for grounding me. I was angry because you were constantly trying to push me into being somebody I didn't want to be. I thought you didn't really care about who I was. That's why I ran away. Because no matter what I did, all you ever were was disappointed in me. No matter what I did, it just never was good enough for you. And most probably running away was stupid, and it didn't change really much between us, either. But the big difference between Eric and me is that no matter what happened, no matter what trouble I got myself into or which of your expectations in me I disappointed yet again, I was never, not _once_ in my entire life, afraid of you. Angry at you, furious, disappointed, yes. But never once afraid. Eric is afraid of his parents, and that worries me. Because I think it takes a damn good reason for a child to be afraid of their parents. If you don't want to help me, say it. But I won't bring Eric to the police, and I won't call his parents. Not until I've figured out what is going on."

Henry sighed and started pacing the room. "And how do you want to do that?"

"I don't know. But I could really need your help in this. I'll ask Eric to try and remember as many details about that second man as possible. Then I'll try to get the police on his trail somehow. But while I'm doing that, I need to know that somebody is taking care of Eric, somebody who watches that he doesn't take off again."

Henry was still pacing, and Shawn silently watched him for a few moments. Finally, Henry stopped and looked up at his son. "Who knows that you've even been in contact with Eric?"

"Gus and you. Nobody else. And nobody else knows that Eric is with me right now."

Henry brought a hand up and rubbed his neck. "All right. Go ahead and talk to him, see what you can figure out about that shooter. But I'll tell you one thing: if that isn't enough to find the guy, I won't let you run around chasing shadows while I watch the kid. Then we're going to involve the police, whether you like it or not."

Shawn nodded. "All right. That's enough for me."

"Good. Then let's see what Eric has to tell."

They went back into the kitchen where they found Gus and Eric still sitting at the table. Gus was talking animatedly about something completely insignificant, and from the look on Eric's face it was obvious that he wasn't listening to a word Gus was saying. Shawn guessed that Gus had only started talking to stop Eric from listening to their shouting from the living room.

When they came into the room, Gus stopped talking and both he and Eric looked up at the two Spencer men. Gus raised both eyebrows, silently asking for the results of their conversation. Shawn pulled out the chair next to Eric and sat down.

"Okay Eric, I know that you'd prefer not to think about it, but I need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened in that warehouse. Everything, no matter how insignificant. We need to find that second man, and for that we need as much information as you can give us."

Eric nodded, though with a lot of hesitation. "Okay."

But it was obvious that he wasn't comfortable with the situation, not at all.

"You can trust Gus and my Dad just as much as you can trust me. We're all trying to help you."

Eric nodded again, but he was only looking at Shawn, not at Gus sitting next to him, or at Henry, who was rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards. But Shawn was all right with that.

"Okay. You didn't go to the shelter that night because somebody had told you about the warehouses. Who was that?"

Eric shrugged. "Another kid. I never knew his name. I met him at the shelter the night before. We got talking, 'cause he was only a little older than me. He told me about the warehouses."

"Good. And you decided not to go back to the shelter after two nights there. Where did you go after you left my office that night?"

Eric drew breath to answer, but was interrupted when Henry wordlessly put down a cup of hot chocolate in front of him. "Thanks", he all but whispered.

"That's all right. You just focus on Shawn's questions", Henry said and sat down in the chair next to Gus.

Eric picked up the mug with both hands as if to warm his hands and stared down in the brown liquid as he spoke. "I went east. The kid had told me what warehouses to look for. I got lost at first, but then I found the street. Wilson Boulevard. There were so many buildings, and nobody was around. And most buildings didn't have cameras. So I just started checking doors of those buildings that didn't have cameras outside. And when one of the doors opened, I got in." He shrugged a little helplessly and took a sip of the hot chocolate. "There was a stack of crates in a corner on the left, and a camera above the door. I…well, I waited until the camera was pointed in the other direction, then I ran behind the crates and tried to find a good sleeping space."

"How long were you in the warehouse until that other man arrived?"  
Eric shrugged again. "I don't know. Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. I had just lain down and tried to get comfortable. Then I heard the door open and steps come into the room."

Shawn got up, hurried over to his father's desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. Sitting back down, he quickly drew a rough schematic of the warehouse.

"Right, so here's the door, the camera, and over here are the crates. Where were you?"

Eric took the pencil and drew an X behind the crates.

"Good. And where did that first man who came into the warehouse go to? You must have heard where his steps came from."

Eric thought for a moment, then he drew another X against one of the walls. "Here. I was afraid because the steps were coming towards me, but then they stopped before he came around the crates."

The point Eric had marked was roughly in the same direction in which the person Griggs had argued with had stood on the surveillance tape. And given the rotation of the camera, that spot had been chosen deliberately, because it was a blind spot.

"Good Eric. You're doing great. Now what happened next?"

"Nothing, for a few minutes. I was too scared to move, or look, so I just lay there and hope that he didn't find me. And then the door opened again. I don't know how much time passed, exactly."

"What happened?"

"Somebody else came into the warehouse. A man. He was walking quicker than the first one, and I think he was looking for the other man."

"Why do you think that?"

Eric shrugged. "He immediately asked _"where are you?" _when he came in." Eric nervously started to knead his hands. "The other guy answered, and then he walked closer to where that first guy was standing. Then they started yelling at each other."

"What did they say?"

Eric shook his head. "I can't remember."

"Eric, it's important. I need to know what they said", Shawn pressed.

"I can't remember! I wasn't listening, I was too scared! They yelled, and then that first guy shot the second guy, and that's all I know!"

"That's not true, Eric. You told me something more yesterday, I know that there's something else you remember."

"I don't remember anything!", Eric yelled and pushed his chair back from the table. The movement was too jerky and forceful, and the still nearly full mug of hot chocolate tumbled and fell over, spilling hot cocoa all over the tabletop and Eric's shirt. Eric's eyes widened and he immediately flinched further back, his arms raised to the side of his head and cowering away in the chair.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…sorry", he mumbled, completely distraught, and with a worried frown Shawn got up from his chair. He caught a glimpse at his father as he got up, and he noticed that Henry, too, was watching Eric with an expression of worry on his face. Slowly, Shawn crouched down in front of Eric.

"Eric, please look at me."

Slowly, Eric lowered his arms and looked at Shawn.

"Sorry", he mumbled again.

"Did you burn yourself?", Shawn asked with a worried look at the stain of hot chocolate on Eric's shirt.

"What?"

"Did the hot chocolate burn you?"

"No." Eric shook his head, confusion evident in his voice. "I'm sorry."  
"It's all right. Those things happen, no damage done. Main thing is you didn't hurt yourself."  
Eric's breathing was still coming in small, rapid gasps and he finally locked his eyes on Shawn.

"I really don't remember anything. Please." A tear ran down Eric's cheek and embarrassed, he wiped it away.  
Gently, Shawn put his hands on Eric's shoulders. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Trust me on this, Eric. Just close your eyes."

Eric did, albeit with some hesitation. Shawn was looking only at Eric, that's why he missed the look of surprise and astonishment Henry shared with Gus at Shawn's words.

"Now I want you to think back on what happened. You're hiding in that warehouse, behind the crates. It's pretty dark, but some light is coming in from the street. The second man comes in and starts asking the first one where he is. They start talking, and I know you heard every word they said. Just think, Eric. I know it's hard, but I also know you can do it."

Eric drew a couple of deep breaths, and he kept his eyes screwed tightly shut. "The guy who came in last asked the first what the meaning of all this was. And that he had better things to do than come here in the middle of the night. The first guy answered that he had not gotten his money. They started yelling at each other about it. I really didn't understand it all. The guy who was shot said he wouldn't pay any more, and the other guy said he'd better do it, otherwise he'd call in the police." Eric hesitated. "Well, he didn't say that exactly."

Shawn frowned. "Then what did he say? Not _"I'll call the cops"_?"

Eric shook his head. "No, the one who got shot answered _"you of all people won't call the cops"_. But the first one said something strange. Like…numbers. I don't know." He frowned again, thinking hard. "Something like _"if you don't pay, I'll call in a four eight six, and I told you what that means."_ I don't know if the number's right. I really don't. But…that other guy understood what he was talking about, because he was getting really angry. And he yelled that he wouldn't play along anymore, no matter what the first guy said, and that there was absolutely no proof again him. He said if the other guy didn't stop asking for money, he'd rat out on him. Then the other guy…he shot him." Eric swallowed hard and opened his eyes. "That's really all I remember. I only looked when the guy who shot had left already. I never saw him. And I really didn't understand most of what they were talking about. Only that the guy who shot wanted money, and the other one didn't want to pay."  
Shawn smiled and squeezed Eric's shoulder. "You did great, Eric."

He got up from his crouch and turned back towards his father and Gus. Gus was still sitting on his chair, watching Shawn and Eric, but Henry wasn't sitting next to him anymore. Shawn noticed that his father had obviously started to clean up the hot chocolate that had spilled onto the table, but he hadn't finished. Now he was standing there with the file Shawn had brought in his hands, flipping through it.

"Dad? What are you looking for?"

Henry raised a finger at Shawn, scanning the page in front of him for a moment. Then he turned towards Eric. "Could it be that he said four nine six?"

Eric shrugged. "I guess. I'm sure about the four. And…well, pretty sure about the six. Because it seemed so strange to hear those numbers. But I don't know. It could be, I guess."

"Shawn, I need to talk to you."

Henry turned around and left the kitchen, leaving Shawn no choice but to follow. "I'll be back in a moment."

"All right." Gus nodded and got up to finish cleaning up the table.

When Shawn came into the living room, his father was pacing again. Shawn closed the door with a frown.

"What is it, Dad?"

"That guy who was killed? Franklin Griggs? He had a rap sheet. I just checked."

Shawn shrugged. "A lot of people do. What did he get busted for?"

"Handling stolen goods. Did two years for it, in 2001."

"Well, business as an importer of pottery goods might be a cover up for that. You think it's connected? And what is the business about those numbers?"

Henry sighed and resumed his pacing. "Well, Eric isn't sure he remembers them correctly. So it might be nothing at all. But normally, people don't just use numbers in conversations. Nobody would understand them. But sometimes, that habit develops out of a job." He stopped his pacing and looked at Shawn. And finally, Shawn understood.

"Cops. Cops talk in that kind of code speak all the time."

Henry nodded. "Yes."

"I don't know any three digit codes", Shawn admitted. "I always thought it was those "10-4"-things cops used."

"496 is a penal code."

Shawn frowned. "For what crime?"

"Possession of stolen property."

Shawn shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. "You think the shooter is a cop?"


	7. A clue, a clue, my kingdom for a clue

**Chapter 6 – A clue, a clue, my kingdom for a clue**

"I don't know who the shooter is", Henry said and resumed his pacing. "I don't even know if Eric heard right. But if the shooter really said that he's going to report in a 496, then I guarantee you that he's a cop. Or that he was a cop once."

Shawn bit his lip. "But even that doesn't help us find out who he is."

"No. But it also means that you were right. Taking Eric to the police right now might not be the wisest choice. Nut until we know for sure that the shooter isn't a cop."

With a sigh, Shawn let himself fall backwards into an armchair. "Great. If only I knew what to do now."

"You've gone through the file already?"

"No, Juliet only dropped it off this morning, right before we left. And I need to convince the police that there was a second man in that warehouse. I just don't know how, not really."

Henry sighed. "It would be far easier if you didn't have to fake a psychic episode with every new clue you uncover."

"Not now, Dad. Let's not have this discussion now." As he looked up, his eyes fell onto the discarded plastic bag on the floor. It was just the opportunity he needed to change the topic. "Oh, but I forgot. I need to put Eric's clothes in the washer."

He got up from the armchair and reached for the plastic bag which he had dropped earlier. Henry took it out of his hand. "Let me do that. You better get back to Eric, I don't get the feeling he's particularly comfortable around Gus or me."

Henry left for the washing machine, and Shawn went back into the kitchen. Gus and Eric were sitting at the kitchen table, with Gus looking at Eric and Eric staring at the wall. It was obvious that Gus wanted to make conversation, but that Eric wasn't particularly keen on it.

"Hey guys", Shawn said as he sank down into one of the free kitchen chairs. "Seems you're having one hell of a party here."

Gus turned a glare on Shawn. "Yes, we're that close to dancing on the tables. You two finished discussing things in private?"

"Come on, Gus, don't be a half-baked donut here. It's not my fault that people keep dragging me in the living room today. So, what's the plan?"

"You're asking me that?"

"Well, I thought you were participating here. Anyway. We need to figure out a plan how to make the police search for the real shooter. Problem is, we don't know who he is."

"So what did your father want to talk to you about?", Eric asked, his voice very low.

Shawn looked at him for a moment, then decided that he couldn't risk the little bit of trust he had established with the boy with dishonesty now.

"My Dad thinks that if you heard right about those numbers, the shooter could be a cop. To him it sounded like a police code."

That haunted expression Shawn knew so well was back on Eric's face. "And how does your father know that?", he asked sceptically.

"He was a cop once."

Eric shrank back a little. "Is there anybody you know who isn't a cop?"

Shawn pointed towards Gus. "Gus. He's the first who comes to mind. If you give me a minute, I'll surely come up with somebody else." Seeing that Eric didn't catch up on the joke, Shawn sighed and leaned towards the boy a little. "I know that right now you're scared of the police. But I promise that you don't need to be scared of my Dad. He's no longer a cop, and by now he has realised that it's not in your best interest to hand you over to the police. So there's nothing you need to worry about, all right?"

Eric shrugged. Shawn really needed to start a research on those shrugs, he was sure that it was a form of wordless conversation which he didn't fully understand. He did shrug a lot himself, but to him those shrugs were always self-explanatory. Eric's shrugs, however, always seemed like the were conveying a hidden meaning he just kept missing.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Gus and I will need to go to the police station if we want to give them a shove in the right direction. Also, maybe they've found out something else about the victim. Will you be all right if we leave you here with my Dad for a while?"

Eric nodded, though his face clearly said that he wasn't. Shawn hadn't thought that this would be so difficult. "He's all right, you know? And if he goes on your nerves, just ask him about fishing. He's going to drone on and on about it for hours, and he won't even notice if you're no longer listening."

That brought a small smile to Eric's face.

"Right kiddo. My Dad has my cell number, so if anything is wrong, just call. But not if he won't stop talking about fishing, that you'll have to deal with on your own."

He got up from his chair just as Henry came into the kitchen. "You're leaving?"

Shawn nodded. "Yes. Short stop at the office, then to the police station. But we shouldn't be too long. I told Eric that he's supposed to call me if anything comes up."

Henry nodded. "All right. We'll find a way to keep ourselves occupied. Just don't stay out too long."

"Sure Dad. Come on Gus, we need to get going. I'll see you later, Eric."

"Bye."

Shawn and Gus vanished out of the house, and suddenly Henry found himself alone with an eleven year old boy who had absolutely no desire to be here. He sighed. This was going to get interesting.

"Did Shawn give you anything to eat?"

"Yeah. I had breakfast. And he made dinner last night."

Henry chuckled. "Let me guess. Frozen dinner fresh out of the microwave?"

Eric shrugged. "It was all right."  
"I'm sure it was. However, how about I make something real for lunch? We need to kill some time until those two come back, anyway, and I've just put your clothes into the washing machine."

"Okay."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Do you think the kid will be all right with your Dad?"

Shawn interrupted his perusal of the case file for a moment and looked across the office at his friend. "Gus, it took that man ten years to make me run away. And he saw me every day. I really don't think he's going to beat that record on Eric today. He'd better not, otherwise he'll never get to baby-sit his grandchildren."

"What grandchildren?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, I plan on sharing the genetic disposition for this awesome hair some day."

Gus had the decency not to look too shocked at that statement. "Yes, whatever you say. So, find anything in that file?"

Shawn shook his head. "Not really. Jules was right, forensics didn't find anything that would hint at a third person being in the warehouse that night. I only hope Vick's either in a good mood or desperate for development on the case, because I don't see my next vision being really specific. But maybe they've found out something more about Griggs by now. If he's dirty somehow, that might play in our favour."

Shawn's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and answered.

"Hello?"

"Spencer, where are you?"

"Lassie! Now that's a pleasant surprise! How are you doing this morning?"

"Cut the crap, Spencer." Lassiter's voice was pure venom. "Be down at the station in ten minutes, or I'll personally put a BOLO out on you."

And he hung up. With a frown, Shawn looked at the phone for a moment, then he put it back in his pocket.

"What is it?", Gus asked.

"That was Lassiter. He sounded pretty miffed, even for Lassie's standards. We shall come down to the station immediately."

"Well, we wanted to go down there, anyway."

Shawn got up and followed Gus out of the office, but the frown didn't vanish from his face. Something about that phone call had been…off. Even for Lassie's standards.

They reached the station roughly ten minutes later, and Shawn couldn't help his bad feeling increasing as they entered the building and made their way through to the offices. Halfway towards Chief Vick's office, suddenly Shawn was grabbed by the arm and pulled roughly to the side.

"This way, Spencer!"

Shawn barely had the time to register that it was Lassiter who was dragging him along, then already he found himself pushed roughly into the chair in front of Lassiter's desk, the head detective towering above him.

"Lassie, not so rough. I bruise easily, you know?"

"Where is he?"

The leaden feeling settled more firmly in Shawn's stomach. "Where is who? Gus? Because he was right behind me, but then you dragged me off. Maybe we should go look for him, he gets lost so easily."

Lassiter put both his hands on the leans of Shawn's chair and got so close to Shawn that their noses nearly touched. "This is not the time for your stupid jokes, Spencer. Where is the boy?"

Shawn shook his head. How on earth could Lassiter know that Shawn knew Eric's whereabouts?

Shawn stared Lassiter down until the detective withdrew his hands and brought some distance between himself and Shawn.

"Where is Eric Robertson?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Because", Lassiter sneered, "one of your neighbours saw you leaving the house this morning, together with a young boy. The neighbour goes into her apartment, unpacks the newspaper she just bought and can you imagine it? There on the front page is the face of the boy she just saw leaving the house together with you, a few minutes ago. Busted, Spencer. And now tell me where he is."

Shawn leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Are you accusing me of hiding away a material witness, Lassie?"

"Yes, that I am."

If Lassiter clenched his jaw just a little tighter, something would break, that Shawn was sure of.

"Listen, I obviously don't have that kid hidden away in my pockets. He's not in the car, and because I know that you don't believe me, why don't you go and check the office and my apartment. I am not hiding that kid, all right?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Oh, cut the crap, Spencer."

"What do you want?" Shawn threw his hands out in mock exasperation. "I'm offering you to search the places I normally spend most of my time because I know that with just the statement of an elderly woman who never wears her glasses you'll never get a warrant. And still that isn't enough for you? What am I supposed to do?"

"You could have brought him anywhere. What about your father's place?"

At that, Shawn laughed out loud. "Come on, Lassie. Please tell me that you don't have that head merely to show off your strong Irish hairline. Which by the way, I think you're pulling off just great. But honestly, if I was hiding away a witness the police is searching for, do you honestly think that my Dad would baby-sit him while I'm here? You know my father, Lassie. He'd probably come out of retirement just to arrest me himself for that. And please tell me what reason I should have for hiding away a witness?"

Lassiter's mouth was drawn into a tight line. He stared at Shawn for a few moments, then he abruptly turned around and stormed away from his desk and over towards the break room. Shawn sank back in his chair with a sigh.

"What was that all about?", Gus asked as he stepped up beside Shawn. Shawn got up from the chair and looked at his friend.

"La mierda ha golpeado el ventilador."

Gus looked absolutely flabbergasted. "What? Since when do you speak Spanish?"

Shawn looked around the offices to make sure that they weren't overheard. "Seems like one of my neighbours saw Eric this morning. She called in a tip, and now Lassie is hot on my trail."

"Darn. What now?"

Shawn pointed a finger at his friend. "That, my friend, is the big question. Lassie won't dare to search my Dad' place, so we're still on the safe side for now. Let's go see what the Chief has to say."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Did I ever care whether something was wise or not?"

Gus thought for a moment, then he started after Shawn, but he took care to stay behind him. Chief Vick's office door was opened slightly and this time Shawn even knocked lightly on the door before they entered. Vick looked up at Shawn, her gaze angry.

"Mr. Spencer, I trust Detective Lassiter had a word with you?"

"More than just one, Chief. You know good old Lassie. Once he gets talking, there's no stopping him. And I trust the fact that I'm walking into your office, free and unshackled, is proof enough that I'm not hiding away any fugitives?"

Vick closed the file she had been holding and got up from her chair. "Then how do you explain that tip your neighbour called in?"

Shawn shrugged. "First of all, I'm living in a house full of elderly ladies. They're easily bored. And paranoid. Really paranoid. And most of them already suspect me of stealing their papers and milk bottles, so accusing me of hiding a fugitive of justice seems like the next logical step."

Vick sighed. "Mr. Spencer. I don't need to tell you what a serious offence we're talking about."

"Not at all, Chief. However, my conscience is clear. Now, about that case."

"What about it? You have any new information?"

"Ever since Detective O'Hara brought me the file, I've been getting visions of something that is missing. Something is missing from the forensics report."

Vick shook her head. "The crime scene guys went over everything with a fine-toothed comb. I doubt that there is anything they have been missing."

Shawn put a hand to his temple and stretched his other hand out to point. "I was looking at the pictures, and then it came over me. Griggs came into the door, but he didn't see the boy. Because the boy wasn't in the dark corner to the left. I'm getting…crates. He was behind the crates, Chief. But if Griggs couldn't even see him, he couldn't have argued with him."

Chief Vick was watching Shawn with a frown. "So you're saying there was a third person in that warehouse?"

"It's not what I'm saying Chief. It's what the spirits are trying to show me. All I'm saying is you should consider it a possibility."

Vick sighed. "Even if we do, it doesn't change one thing about the investigation. We'd still need to find Eric Robertson, and until we have a statement from him it doesn't matter whether as a witness or as a suspect. And even if, and I'm saying _if_, there was a third person in that warehouse that night, forensics didn't find anything that would lead us to that person. So if you don't have any more specific information, I suggest you just let us continue the investigation."

Shawn nodded. He had known that the little information he had would not overwhelm Vick with joy. And if he faked a vision of the third person being a cop right now, she'd probably throw him out of the office. He needed something to back his info up, and fast.

"All right. Just one question, did the investigation of Griggs bring anything new? Like a reason why he was in that warehouse in the first place. Certainly not to check up on his merchandise."

Vick looked at Shawn for a moment, then she re-opened the file on her desk with a sigh. "No, nothing on that. We've gone through his phone records, landline and cell, and we have run the numbers. He made and received some calls that evening, but so far there was nothing we could tie to his presence in that warehouse. If you've read the file O'Hara brought you, you know that he had a criminal record. But there were no offences since his release from prison."

"Which only means that he didn't get caught."

Vick raised her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

Shawn did his best to look startled, as if his words had surprised him more than Chief Vick. "I don't know, it just popped out. I…maybe…check his finances. Yes, check his finances. Maybe somebody was keeping him informed."

"Well, we do have people working on that Mr. Spencer. So really, right now I don't see anything you could help us with."

"Just checking in", Shawn said and flashed her a smile. "How could I not, after Lassie asked so nicely. Have a good day, Chief."

"Good day to you, Mr. Spencer", Vick answered and Shawn was out of her office. Gus was hovering just outside the door, and he quickly fell into step as Shawn walked down the corridor.

"So what now?"

Shawn sighed. "They're still checking Griggs, so I don't know yet if something will show up there. I just hope they'll find something that'll help us identify the murderer. Let's go find Juliet, see what she's got."

"All right."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was a common misconception that raising a child made you an expert on how to deal with all kinds of kids. And as misconceptions normally were, it was totally wrong.

Henry had raised Shawn, and while that had certainly been a task comparable to watching a pack of fleas at times, it didn't make Henry an expert on children.

His own kid he could read well enough. Problem was, Eric was the total opposite of Shawn at his age. Shawn had been a package of perpetual restlessness. He had never been quiet, and you had always noticed him when he was around. Psychologists probably would have a field day analysing that in regard to his relationship with his parents, but Henry knew that it hadn't been a constant cry for attention. It had simply been Shawn's way of tackling life, as loudly and exuberantly as possible.

Eric was the total opposite. Had Henry not been acutely aware that the kid was there, it would have been easy to miss him. And he wasn't a big talker. Now, Henry was sure that a large part of this had to do with Eric's discomfort with the current situation. He only trusted Henry because Shawn had said he could, Henry knew that. But still it was somehow disconcerting to sit across the table from an eleven year old who didn't talk on his own and answered monosyllabically when he was asked something. It was just so different from his own son.

What wasn't different was the relationship to food. Just like young Shawn, Eric had devoured his lunch with the intensity of a starving animal. Henry would say it had to do with growing, but he knew that with Shawn it had never stopped even as he had reached his full height.

But once lunch was finished and the dishes were cleared, the silence grew a bit oppressing.

"So, anything you want to do?", Henry finally asked.

Eric shrugged. "I don't know. Like what?"

"Well, I admit there's not much stuff around the house for a kid your age, but we could go up to Shawn's old room and have a look if you find something interesting there."

"I thought he had an own apartment."

Henry smiled. "Yes, that he has. But he didn't take everything with him when he moved out. And no matter how often I tell him to come and get his stuff, he doesn't." He got up from his chair.

"Come on up, let's have a look around."

He led the way up the stairs, Eric on his heels, and opened the door to the first room on the left. Shawn's old childhood bedroom had been cleared out at one point; when he had moved out Shawn had taken his most priced possessions with him. But there was still plenty of clutter he had never come to get, and which Henry had been too lazy to throw out. Books were still standing on the shelves, flanked by old soccer awards, a small shelf underneath the window still held a couple of remote controlled cars and action figures, and Henry knew that inside the wardrobe there were boxes upon boxes of…well, other stuff, for a lack of better word. He opened the wardrobe up and pulled one of those boxes out.

"Won't Shawn mind if we go through his stuff?", Eric asked shyly.

Henry shook his head and sat down on the bed. "No he won't. He took all the personal and embarrassing stuff out long ago. I doubt we'll stumble across anything he doesn't want us to see.

Eric shrugged and hesitantly sat down next to Henry on the bed.

"You think there might be any comic books in there?"

Henry chuckled. "I doubt it, Shawn always hid his comics away. But let's see."

Digging through this box unearthed a number of old school books, a scrapbook of the LA Lakers Shawn had collected at the age of nine, a couple of board games which Eric eyed with some interest, and a couple of photographs. Henry already wanted to grab the board games and go down to try them out with Eric when he discovered the photos. More out of curiosity than anything else, Henry took one of the framed pictures and peeled away the newspaper wrapped around it. Obviously, Shawn had packed those pictures up to take them along when he had moved out, but at one point had forgotten.

He smiled when he recognised the picture. It was one of Shawn and Gus, at age nine or ten, standing with their arms across each other's shoulder, smiling into the camera. Henry wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it had been taken during their trip to Disneyland.

Eric eyed the picture with interest.

"Is that Shawn and Gus?"

"Yes, that's them. I think they were ten when that was taken."

"For how long have they been friends?"

"For what seems like forever. I don't really know. I think Gus' folks moved here when he was six or seven years old." He turned his eyes away from the picture and towards Eric. "Don't you have a best friend, you know, the one guy you always hang out with?"

Eric shook his head. "Not really. I don't have many friends." He shrugged. "Didn't it ever bother you?"

Henry frowned. "What? That Shawn and Gus are friends? No, why should it have?"

Eric shrugged again, uncomfortably. "'Cause he's black. Stan would throw a fit if…forget about it."

But Henry didn't. That Gus was black had honestly never been an issue, neither for Shawn nor for Henry or his wife. They hadn't raised Shawn to make a difference between people because of their skin colour, and fortunately he couldn't remember any incident while Shawn had been growing up in which Gus being black had been an issue. But he also wasn't stupid enough to believe that everybody else had the same standpoint on that.

He put the picture back down in the box and looked at Eric. "When Gus and Shawn met, it just clicked. I don't know how or why, but it did. You look at them and see two total opposites, and I don't mean because Shawn is white and Gus is black. They _are_ total opposites. But it works for them. They might yell at each other a lot, but when it comes to the crunch, one of them will always stand in for the other. No matter the situation. And it's always been like that. I think that's what really counts, and for that it doesn't really matter what colour their skin is."

Eric shrugged. "I guess. I'm not saying I think it matters. It's just, well…Stan thinks differently about those things."

"Seems like that Stan is a piece of work."

Eric shrugged again. "Somehow. He yells a lot." He shrugged again. "I don't know. People seem to yell a lot at Shawn, too."

At that, Henry smiled. "Yes, he seems to attract that. Provoke it even, at times. It's easy to get frustrated with Shawn because he has a very unique way of thinking, and at times that makes it hard to understand why he does the things he does. Living with him on a daily basis is…a challenge. Did he tell you that he ran away once, too?"

Eric's blue eyes grew wide. "He did?"

"Yes, when he was ten years old."  
"But why?"

Henry shrugged. "We had a fallout. Shawn's mother and I were still married, but she was with her folks for three weeks because her mother had gotten sick. So it was just Shawn and me. And we always had problems with each other if we were stuck together for too long without a mediator between us. We had a couple of things we didn't agree on, then there came a big fight and I grounded him. Next thing I know, he had grabbed a backpack and was gone."

"How long was he gone?"

Henry smiled. "About an hour. I caught up with him at Gus' place before he could go anywhere else. I was lucky that I came home earlier that day, I don't want to imagine how hard it would have become to find him once he left Gus' house."

"And what if you hadn't found him?"

Now it was Henry's turn to shrug. "I'd have kept on searching for him until I found him. That's what you do if your child vanishes."

"I don't think my Mom or Stan are searching for me", Eric admitted lowly.

"What makes you say that?"

"Stan doesn't like me. Never has. I mean, he's been around for as long as I can remember, but I always knew that he wasn't my Dad. And I always knew that he wanted to be with my Mom, and not with me. So I just keep out of his way as much as I can."

"And if you can't?"

Henry hadn't forgotten about Eric's look of absolute terror because of something as insignificant as spilled hot chocolate. He had been a cop for too many years as not to recognise the signs.

Eric shrugged again, evasively this time. "What did you do when Shawn pushed you too far?"

"A lot of things, depending on the situation. I yelled, sometimes I have to admit I said things I shouldn't have said. I grounded him, made him help more around the house. All kinds of things like that."

There was a strange look on Eric's face, but he didn't say a word. Henry thought for a moment to find the right words.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Eric nodded. "All right."  
"Does Stan hit you?"

Eric shrugged, not meeting Henry's eyes. It wasn't a verbal answer, but it was all the answer Henry needed.

"You know that he has no right to do that, right?"

"It's not as if anyone cares."

Henry frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That nobody really cares. I mean, I try to stay out of his way, and mostly it works. But sometimes, he's just waiting for me to do something that annoys him, and I always do. It's not as if anybody notices."

"You ever told anybody about it?"

Eric shook his head.

"What about your Mom?"

Eric shrugged again. "She only cares about Stan."

"And that's why you ran away."

"I just want to find my real Dad, then I don't need to go back to them, anyway." Eric's voice was getting defensive.

"Even if you find your Dad, you have to know that it's not going to be that easy. I'm assuming that your mother has custody for you, so even if we find your father and he agrees for you to live with him, it will still take some time. And it will need to go through official channels."

"They're going to send me back?"

Henry shook his head. "Not if there's a good reason for you not to go back. Abuse is a very good reason for you not to be sent back. All I'm saying is you need to know that still it's not going to happen as fast as you hope. Transferring custody is a process. And it's one that involved the authorities."

Eric shook his head. "I won't go to the police. They're going to send me back. And I won't go back. I'll just run away again." The panic was back in his eyes, and he had grown pale.

"Eric, calm down. Nothing's going to happen today, all right? First we need to figure out who really murdered that man in the warehouse. And then, once you're safe again, we can start thinking about everything else. Let's just tackle one thing after the other." Henry raised the board games he had taken from the box earlier. "And how about we tackle those now while we wait for Shawn to come back?"

Eric slowly nodded and got up from the bed. Solely mentioning that sooner or later he'd have to face the police seemed to have made him clam up again. Henry had seen it before, far too often. Abusive parents not only managed to emotionally cripple their children with what they were doing, they often also planted such a deep sense of being alone with their problems into the children that even if help was offered, the children were afraid to take it. Henry was sure that Eric still had a long way to go in that regard.

They went back into the kitchen where Eric started to set up the Scrabble board while Henry fixed them something to drink. but just as he was about to sit down, a beeping sounded from somewhere in the house.

"That's the dryer", Henry said. "Seems like your clothes are finished. I'll be back in just a moment, you go on ahead setting up that game."

"Sure."

And Henry left to look after Eric's clothes.

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"Guys, this really won't go any faster if you look over my shoulder", Juliet said with a sigh as she went through the numerous printouts on her desk.

"Maybe not", Shawn admitted. "But it's such a nice shoulder to look over."

A tired smile showed on Juliet's face. "Listen, this might take another half hour, maybe forty minutes. Why don't you two go and get some belated lunch in the meantime. I promise I'll call you if I stumble across anything while you're gone."

"All right. But I'll only bring something for you if you promise that I can look at your shoulder some more later."

"I thought you were looking over my shoulder?"

"I can multitask."

Juliet rolled her eyes, but the smile was still on her face. "Just go, Shawn."

With a smile Shawn turned away from Juliet's desk and nodded his head at Gus, who had been lunging in a chair nearby. "Come on Gus, let's go for a hot dog."

They were already out in the parking lot when Shawn's cell phone started to ring once more.

"Well Jules, that was fast", he mumbled as he fumbled around his pocket for the phone. With a frown, he read the name on the display and immediately answered it.

"Dad, what's up?"

He listened for a moment, and while Gus could not hear what Henry said, he saw Shawn shaking his head in confusion.

"Whoa Dad, slow down. What happened?"

Henry must have repeated his message more calmly now, because Shawn listened intently.

"What?", he asked after a few seconds.

"When? And how? What happened?" He listened again. "No, just stay where you are. We'll be there in ten minutes."

He snapped the phone shut and hurried over towards Gus' car. Gus rushed after him.

"What did your Dad want? What happened?"

Shawn only stopped when he reached the passenger door and looked at Gus. "Eric ran away again."


	8. You can run, but you cannot hide

**Chapter 7 – You can run, but you cannot hide**

Gus broke the speed limit. Shawn was sure that Gus had never committed a single traffic violation in his entire life, but today he broke the speed limit. And it did the trick, they reached Henry's house quick enough for Shawn not to freak out entirely.

When they came into the house, Henry stormed towards them, cell phone in his hand and face drawn with worry.

"Dad, what happened?"

"I don't now. One minute he was setting up the Scrabble board while I went to get his clothes from the dryer, and when I come back into the kitchen, he's gone!"

Shawn shook his head. "You chased Eric away with Scrabble?"

"Shawn, this is not the right time for jokes!"

Shawn sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, it isn't. But what happened? Was he upset about something?"

"You mean more than he already was? Yes. But not so upset that I'd have thought he'd run away, otherwise I'd not have left him alone in the first place."

"Why was he upset?"

"We got talking. Well, a little. Did he tell you that his stepfather is abusing him?"

Shawn's eyes widened. "What? No, he didn't…he just told you that?"

Henry shrugged. "I asked, and he admitted."

"Please tell me you didn't interrogate him, Dad."

"Shawn, you should know me better than that. I didn't interrogate him, we _talked_. He was upset that sooner or later he'd have to face the police on all this because otherwise we'd not be able to help him. But I told you, he didn't look as if he was about to bolt, otherwise I'd not have left him alone."

Shawn started pacing the living room. "And you've searched for him everywhere."

Henry nodded. "Yes. I searched the entire house, and when I didn't find him I looked everywhere around the house. He isn't here. Then I called you."

"All right, we need to find him."

"Any idea where he might have gone?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I will look at the office, and at my apartment, but I doubt that he runs away from here just to show up again there. Else, I don't really know."

Henry grabbed his keys. "All right, Gus you stay here in case Eric comes back. I take the truck, Shawn you take Gus' car. We'll start looking here in the neighbourhood, and if we don't find him I'll go southeast and you go downtown."

Gus tossed Shawn his car keys and together with his father Shawn hurried out the front door. Henry got into his truck and took off down the street. Shawn started Gus' car and set off in the opposite direction.

His father had said that Eric had left when Henry had been getting the clothes from the dryer. That meant Eric was still wearing the clothes he had worn this morning, a blue pair of shorts and a red t-shirt. It might even help them that he was wearing different clothes than he had on the surveillance video. The patrol cars were looking out for a boy in jeans and a blue hooded sweater, they might just miss taking a closer look at Eric now that he was wearing different clothes.

Shawn put his cell phone on the passenger seat and started circling the neighbourhood of his father's house. He drove slowly by all the small side-streets he still knew from his childhood, and a few times he got out of the car to check possible hiding places which he could not see from the road. But he didn't find anything.

After an hour he had looked in all possible places, including a lookout over the beach, and hadn't found Eric anywhere. Eric hadn't run away to hide somewhere near, he had run away to vanish. And that thought worried Shawn.

Even though he knew it would be futile, Shawn first drove to the Psych office and, when he didn't find Eric there, made a quick pass by his apartment. But Eric wasn't at either place. Not that Shawn had expected him to be, but one could always hope. Every half hour, Shawn checked in with Gus and his father, but neither of them had to report anything new, either.

After driving around aimlessly through the city centre for over two hours, Shawn parked the car and killed the engine to think for a moment. He didn't like driving around, waiting for a coincidence to happen. There had to be a more methodical way to find Eric again, and quickly. It was starting to get dark.

Shawn didn't believe Eric would hide out in plain sight. He was too scared of the police to risk running into them, so he wouldn't be found just walking through a shopping mall. But where else could he go? Shawn doubted that he'd hide out in an industrial park somewhere, not after what had happened in the last warehouse he had been in.

Maybe he was trying to leave Santa Barbara, figuring that too many people were looking for him there by now. But that would mean taking either the train or a bus out of town, and since train and bus stations were closely guarded and under video surveillance Shawn didn't think Eric would go there.

So he might be trying to hitch a ride somewhere. And there were endless possibilities where he could try to get out of the city. Far too many to check.

Besides, Eric wasn't a street kid. He had managed to survive for three weeks after running away, that was true, but he had had help. There had been another street kid who had told him about the possibility of sleeping in the warehouse. Whoa, wait. Eric had gone to that other kid for help. Maybe he would go try to find that kind of help again.

Shawn checked his watch. It was nearly eight. The shelters started to fill up in the evenings, it wouldn't hurt to look at the shelter where Eric had spent two nights. Maybe he'd find somebody who knew Eric, or somebody who knew where he was. Shawn grabbed his cell phone from the passenger seat and hit a number on his speed dial. His father answered nearly immediately.

"Shawn?"

"Nothing."

Henry sighed. "Same here. Nothing new at the house, either, I just checked in with Gus. I'm on my way east now, to the 101. Maybe he's trying to hitch a ride there. I doubt that he's trying to leave Santa Barbara altogether before he's found his father, but I'd still rather check first."

Shawn had to smile that his father had had the same thought that he had earlier.

"I'll try to find the shelter where Eric stayed a few nights. Maybe someone there saw him, or he's trying to get there again. St. Agnes', do you know where that is?"

Henry thought for a moment. "Downtown. Rikers, corner of Ninth, if I'm not much mistaken."

"Okay, I'm going to call if I find out anything."

"Same here."

They both disconnected and Shawn tossed the cell phone back onto the passenger seat as he started the car again and pulled into traffic. He only hoped to find Eric at that shelter, he didn't like the thought of the boy out on the streets for the night with a murderer out looking for him, not one bit.

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Juliet had to admit that it had been a little boring since Shawn and Gus had left. True, Shawn's hovering behind her had been a bit unnerving, but she was a bit surprised that the two men had not come back. And they hadn't called in to ask for results, either. Juliet didn't quite know what to think of that, if she was completely honest with herself. It was unusual, that was for sure.

But she had a lot to do, and didn't have much time to contemplate the sudden absence of Shawn and Gus.

Going through the records of Griggs' landline and cell phone hadn't provided any results they could work with. None of the numbers had stood out. So she had started digging through his financial records. The department employed bookkeepers to check those kind of records for the tiniest inconsistencies, but their work was going slow. So Juliet decided to double check, not because she wanted to figure out the final details of where Griggs' money had come from, but to maybe find something more obvious that would put her on a trail.

No such luck.

Oh, Griggs had had money, and Juliet was fairly sure that he had earned far too much for it to have come solely out of the business of importing pottery. But she had no way to trace the bank accounts where the money had come from, and double checking the dates when Griggs had paid cash onto his accounts didn't bring forth anything, either.

Frustrated, she put the documents down onto her desk and got up from her chair. Lassiter was working through his own stack of reports at his own desk. His face was pulled into a perpetual scowl, and Juliet knew that this case was frustrating him. With no forensics and no witnesses, all the work they could do on this case was paperwork. Deskwork. Work Lassiter hated like the plague, Juliet knew.

"Carlton?"

Lassiter looked up, and Juliet thought she detected a spark of hope in his gaze. Hope that maybe Juliet had found something that could lead them to chasing down a subject, interrogating a witness, or maybe just a good old shootout. Anything more active than sitting in the police station all day long.

"Do you have Griggs' business phone records?"

Lassiter frowned. "I thought _you_ were going through the phone records, O'Hara."

"Home phone and cell, yes. But Griggs had an office line, I know I requested the phone records for that. But it's not on my desk."

Lassiter started rummaging through the papers on his own desk, but the phone records where nowhere to be found.

"Are you sure you requested the business phone records?"

Juliet didn't deign that question with an answer. She was no rookie, of course she had requested it. With a sigh she returned to her desk and picked up the phone. It didn't matter, she'd just call the phone company, and they'd fax the records over in ten minutes.

The people at the phone company were complacent enough, and while Juliet was waiting for the fax to arrive, she went into the break room to grab a cup of coffee. Just as she entered, McNabb came walking towards her, flanked by a man and a woman.

"Detective", he called and Juliet stopped to wait up for them.

"Buzz?"

"Detective, those are Mr. and Mrs. Robertson. Eric Robertson's parents."

"Thank you, I'll take it from here."

Buzz nodded and left.

"Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, I'm Detective O'Hara." She stretched out her hand towards the couple, shaking hands in turn. It gave her a chance for a quick first evaluation. Both were well dressed, their clothes not too expensive but chosen with taste and a look for quality. And both were still fairly young. From the Missing Persons report she had filed, Juliet knew that Holly Robertson was thirty-one years old, and she didn't look a year older than that. Her blonde hair was cut in a modern, shoulder-length cut, and a pair of lively brown eyes was watching Juliet attentively. There were definite lines of worry in her face, though. No expression of barely concealed grief, but there was worry.

Stan Robertson was…well, Juliet had to admit that he was extremely handsome. There was no other word for it. Tall, fit and trim, also barely in the beginning of his thirties, tanned in a way that suggested outdoor activities, and just the ghost of a smile playing around his lips as he looked at Juliet. Contrary to his wife, if he worried at all about Eric, it certainly didn't show on his face.

"We heard that you had some new information on Eric", Stan Robertson said. "The LAPD came and asked us to identify his picture. Have you found him? Is he in some sort of trouble?"

Juliet shook her head.

"We are looking for him, but unfortunately we haven't found him yet. If you'd come with me, Head Detective Lassiter can surely fill you in on all the information we have."

"Of course", Stan Robertson replied and Juliet led the couple along to Lassiter's desk.

"Carlton? The Robertsons are here."

Lassiter looked up at Juliet with a sigh. "All right." he closed the files on his desk and got up. "I'll take you to the Chief. If you'd come with me. O'Hara?"

"I'll be with you in a moment, I'm still waiting for those phone records."

Lassiter nodded and led the Robertsons to Chief Vick's office.

Juliet went over towards the fax machine. There were five sheets of paper lying in it. She picked them up, grabbed her discarded coffee and sat back down at her desk.

It would take time to run all the numbers on Griggs' business phone line, but she'd give it a start, anyway. Maybe something would stick out on first glance.

She found it halfway down the first page. And on the bottom of the first page. Twice more on the next two pages, and as she hurriedly leafed through the remaining pages she found it another three times.

She couldn't believe it at first, but it was a number she immediately recognised. The extension was a different one all the times, but that simply meant the caller had used different phones. But all of them had come from inside the Santa Barbara Police Station.

Juliet grabbed the printouts and ran towards Chief Vick's office. The Robertsons would just have to wait.

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After Henry ended the conversation with his son, he continued driving east, but his thoughts were still on what Shawn had said. Henry knew that they needed to find Eric as soon as possible, before he had the chance to put a whole lot of distance between himself and them.

But there was something else nagging at him. A bad little feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach and refused to go away, but Henry just couldn't put his finger on what was wrong. So he continued driving East, checking every gas station and diner he passed in search of a kid trying to hitch a ride.

He found nothing. Not even a trace of him. No gas station attendant had seen Eric, and as he reached the outskirts of the city, Henry finally believed that even if Eric had been trying to get out of the city, he hadn't come through here.

Henry pulled into an empty space to his right to wait for a moment and think about what to do next. Shawn should be checking in soon, then he'd know what his son had found at that shelter.

The shelter!

It was so glaringly obvious that Henry asked himself how he could have possibly missed it. Resisting the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel as a punishment for not seeing it earlier, Henry quickly started the engine again and swerved the car across three lanes into the direction back into the city.

Other cars were swerving to avoid him, but Henry ignored their horns and flashing headlights. He needed to get to that shelter as quickly as possible.

Because if the police had been canvassing all shelters in the city, then they had found out that Eric had been staying in St. Agnes' for two nights. And if the police knew that, the murderer most probably did, too. He'd be stupid not to be watching the shelter, waiting for the possibility that Eric might show up again there. And Shawn was heading there right now.

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Shawn parked his car on the corner of Ninth and got out. The shelter was well lit, a sign above the door identifying it as St. Agnes' shelter for the homeless. A few people, older adults mostly, were lingering on the doorstep, smoking cigarettes because it wasn't allowed inside the building. But Shawn didn't intend to go inside, anyway. If Eric had really come here, the police would have gotten to know about it immediately.

No, Shawn intended to find kids of around Eric's case hanging around here. If Eric had asked somebody for help, he'd have probably asked somebody his age, somebody who didn't pose a threat.

As Shawn crossed the street, a beat cop came walking into his direction. Shawn had never seen him before, which was not surprising since he hardly ever worked with beat cops, and obviously the cop didn't know Shawn either. He didn't pay any more attention to Shawn than to any other pedestrian on the street.

Shawn jogged across the lanes for opposite traffic and started walking down the block that housed St. Agnes' homeless shelter. A group of kids barely in their teens was standing a few yards away from the entrance to the shelter, huddled a little against the cold wind, talking amongst themselves. Shawn went over to them.

Four pairs of eyes in various states of disinterest watched him as he came over towards them.

"Hey. I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"Sorry to disappoint you, old-timer. This ain't _Who wants to be a millionaire_."

Shawn hadn't been called old before. At least not to his face.

"Old-timer? What exactly makes you think I'm old? Is it the shirt? I know that black and white stripes are conservative, but I always thought the little yellow ducks on the sleeves made up for that."

The blank stares turned into disbelieving ones. "What are you, some kind of comedian?"

"No, actually I'm a consultant for the police. I need to find a boy, eleven years, brown hair, blue eyes, about this tall." He raised a hand to demonstrate. "Wears blue shorts and a red shirt. His name is Eric. Have you seen him today?"

"You with the cops?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm with the cops."

The tallest of the group made a step forward. "If you were with the cops, you'd know that there just was a cop here, asking about that kid. And I tell you the same that I've told him – I met him a few blocks from here about two hours ago, and I told him that there are good sleeping places down at the docks and the marina. If you stay outside of the fenced-off loading areas, there are some great sleeping spaces out of the wind down by the piers."

Shawn's heart started beating faster.

"Where exactly?"

"Shoreline Park."

"Thanks guys", Shawn said and hurried off back towards Gus' car. He ran back to the street, waiting for an empty stretch in traffic, then hurried across the street and back towards the car. Only to find his father's truck standing right behind it. His father was standing next to Gus' car, looking down the road to the left as if trying to spot his son. As he turned and his eyes fell on Shawn, a strange look crossed his face, but before Shawn could analyse it any further, it was gone and had been replaced by anger.

"Is carrying cell phones around not cool anymore? Because I've been trying to reach you for the past fifteen minutes and only got your voicemail."

Shawn unlocked the car and grabbed the phone from the passenger seat.

"I forgot it. But listen, I just talked to a kid who saw Eric this afternoon. We need to get down to Shoreline park, that other kid told Eric there were good places to spend the night down there."

Shawn wanted to get into the car, but Henry's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What?"

"Shawn, if we figure out that he might show up here at the shelter again, then the killer might figure that out, as well. Especially if he is a cop and knows that Eric has been here before."  
And suddenly Shawn remembered that cop he had seen earlier. He had not thought much about it, seeing a beat cop on the streets wasn't something unusual, but something was off about the picture.

"Dad, would a beat cop be on patrol alone after dark?"

Henry frowned. "No, at least not in this part of town. Why do you ask?"

"There was a cop here earlier. I saw him on my way to the shelter. And the kids told me he asked them questions about Eric. But he was alone."

"Was he in uniform?"

Shawn nodded, and Henry's frown deepened. "If Karen isn't stupid, and I know she isn't, she wouldn't let uniformed cops patrol around the shelter looking for Eric. She knows that just seeing an officer in uniform will make him run off, and she wants him to go into the shelter because his chances of running are slimmer if he's in a building when the police arrive.. And I don't see how a beat cop could patrol in this part of town on his own at night."

Shawn was already fumbling for his cell phone again, but before he could even pull it fully out of his pocket it was already ringing.

"Hello?"

"Shawn, it's Juliet."

"Jules, you have to be a mind-reader! I was just about to call you."

A moment's pause. "Why? Is there anything new?"

"Yes. I was reading through that report again", Shawn lied. "And I got something."

"What is it?"

"I got a badge. Suddenly, that's all I was seeing. A badge, and a badge number." He unconsciously squinted as he tried to remember the badge number of the cop he had seen earlier. "2591."

There was a moment's pause, and Shawn inwardly prepared himself for the upcoming exclamation that there couldn't possible be a cop involved. Juliet's next words, however, astonished Shawn.

"I was calling you to tell that we found something in Griggs' business phone records. His office was called regularly over the past months, and always from various extensions here at the police station. I double checked, and the phone calls coincide with custom checkups on his imported pottery."

Shawn whistled lowly. "Somebody was tipping him off about the controls."

"Yes. A cop could access that information, but until now we didn't know who we were looking for. I'm going to run that badge number right now. Is there anything else you're getting?"

"About Eric." Shawn paused, deliberately. "Water. He's near water. Hiding. I see piers, and docks, but he's not inside the docks."

"Shawn, there's thousands of piers in the Santa Barbara area. I need more specific information."

Shawn pretended for his breathing to come faster. Faking these visions on the phone was actually harder than doing it in front of an audience. "Parquet. No. Parking. No, but closer. Something about Parking, Parker, Pack, no, Park. Park, does that help?"  
Juliet was quiet for a moment and Shawn hoped that she'd figure it out, or at least pull up a map of Santa Barbara. "Shoreline Park", she said after only a second or two.

"That's it. Shoreline Park."

"It's still a pretty big area to search. I'm going to run the badge number now, and then I'll put a BOLO out on the cop's car if he's not to be found. Lassiter and me are going down there with the cavalry."  
"I'm on my way!"

"Shawn…"

But Shawn hung up on her before she could finish.

"Come on Dad, let's go!"

Henry quickly got into the passenger seat of Gus' car and Shawn started the engine.

"We're closer to Shoreline Park than the station is. We'll be there first."

Henry looked doubtful. "Shawn, I think we should wait for the police to arrive. We're not really equipped to handle a situation like stopping an armed cop right now."

"I know", Shawn said as he took a turn at breakneck speed. Gus would kill him if he got any speeding tickets. "But I can't let that guy find Eric. We need to be there first. That cop, if it really was him, has a twenty minute lead on us, maybe more."

Shawn didn't say out loud what would happen if that cop he had seen had nothing at all to do with Eric and the warehouse murder. He only hoped he hadn't just ruined a career with telling Juliet that badge number.

"Besides, we don't even know if Eric is hiding out down there. Just because the kids told him that it was a good place doesn't mean he went there. We're just looking, Dad."

Henry rolled his eyes and braced himself for the next turn. Just looking, right.

They reached Shoreline Road just a few minutes later, and Shawn slowed the car slightly, keeping his eyes trained on the sea to his left.

"There's still too many piers", Henry said from the passenger seat.

But Shawn shook his head. "That kid said he warned Eric off to stay out of the fenced areas. Further up North the docks start, and they're fenced off and guarded. Eric has to be here somewhere."

"If he's here at all", Henry said, but was cut short when suddenly Shawn brought the car to a screeching halt and got out without even killing the engine.

In a short moment of astonishment that followed, Henry barely had time to notice the black SUV parked on the other side of the road, the only car parked for blocks. Then his eyes followed where his son was going and Henry broke into a run.

Shawn was running towards the nearest pier, because in the dim light he could just about see a large figure running out onto the water. Maybe ten feet ahead of the large figure, a much smaller figure was running out onto the pier. Henry started running.

But it was Shawn who was a few steps ahead of his father. He couldn't see either figure clearly, but to him there was no doubt that the smaller person was Eric, and that the guy chasing him had to be the second man from the warehouse. What worried him was what would happen if Eric reached the end of the pier. They were pretty far out in the water, the sea wasn't exactly calm, and it was dark and cold.

Shawn ran faster.

But he wasn't fast enough.

Eric stopped when he reached the end of the pier, first staring down into the water, then turning back towards the man who was chasing him.

"Stop!", Shawn yelled, hoping to stall the man. But he acted as if he hadn't heard, which over the wind and the sound of the sea might even have been a possibility. "Stop!", Shawn yelled again, still running hard, but he was still too far away. There was nothing Shawn could do as the man lifted the struggling Eric up as easily as if he didn't weigh anything and tossed him over the railing of the pier. All he heard was Eric's scream, then a loud splash, and then nothing but the wind and the waves.

"No!"

He didn't even know if Eric could swim. Shawn heard his father's steps running a short distance behind him, but it was as if he couldn't think clearly, for the first time in a long while. He still didn't hear Eric calling for help, and he didn't want to consider what that could possibly mean.

The man had been staring down into the water after tossing Eric in, but now he turned towards Shawn. The light was still bad, but Shawn was sure it was the same cop he had seen earlier, in front of the shelter. But he didn't care about that right now. Jules and Lassiter would be here soon, let them handle this guy. Shawn needed to find Eric.

As Shawn had nearly reached him, the cop reached for his handgun on his belt, but before he could pull it Shawn had closed up to him and rammed into him at full speed, as hard as he could. They both lost their balance and stumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

It was only a matter of seconds before the cop would catch his bearings again and make another try for his gun, but Shawn needed to find Eric now. His father was right behind him, and he had far more experience in disarming people, anyway.

As quickly as possible, Shawn scrambled to his feet, hurried over towards the railing, put a foot up on top of it and jumped down into the ocean.

The water was icy. As it closed over his head, Shawn felt its icy chills pressing his lungs together and making his skin tingle. It wouldn't be long before his arms and legs would start to get numb, he knew that. He didn't have much time to find Eric.

Kicking to the surface as quickly as he could, Shawn started to look around. But there was nothing to see on the surface besides the rising waves. It was too dark to see for very far, so Shawn quickly drew a deep breath and dove down again. Just as his head was vanishing beneath the water to blindly grab around for Eric, he heard the sound of a gun going off.


	9. That never happened on Baywatch

**Chapter 8 – That never happened on **_**Baywatch**_

Juliet was in the car, speeding towards Shoreline Park, filling Lassiter in on what had happened while he drove down the road with lights flashing. Lassiter's face had been a grim mask ever since Juliet had told him about Griggs being tipped off by somebody from inside the department. Dirty cops were always the hardest thing to grasp for other cops.

Juliet had run the badge number Shawn had given her, and it had led back to a patrol officer by the name of Julian Garner. Garner hadn't reported in for his night-shift an hour ago, and the patrol car they had sent to his house had reported back that nobody was there. So right now, Shoreline Park was their only lead.

"So now Spencer is having his visions over the phone? And he is on his way there now?", Lassiter said when Juliet had finished. "Whose great idea was that?"

"It's not exactly as if I had a chance of talking him out of it. He hung up before I could tell him to leave that to us."

Lassiter made a grunting sound in the back of his throat and swerved the car onto Shoreline Road.

"The area is huge. Can't Spencer be a little more specific?"

Juliet sighed and kept an eye out on the road. Discussing Shawn with Lassiter wouldn't bring forth any results, she knew that.

"Look there!"

She needn't have called out. The car standing right there in the middle of the road, engine still running, was rather hard to miss. Lassiter brought their car to a halt behind it, killed the engine and got out.

"It's Guster's car", he said. "And it's empty." His eyes swerved over towards the beach and scanned the area in the dim light.

"O'Hara, the pier!"

Juliet followed Lassiter's gaze and together the two started running towards the pier, both drawing their guns as they went. Out on the pier, they could just about make out the figures of two people struggling with each other, but they were too far away and it was too dark to make out details.

The two detectives had just crossed the beach and had reached the beginning of the pier when there as a flash in the darkness ahead and a gun discharged.

"SBPD, freeze!", Lassiter yelled and, if possible, ran even farther. The two figures were still struggling ahead, but as he got closer Lassiter saw one of them gain the upper hand. He pressed his opponent down onto the wooden pier, raised his right first and brought it down, hard. The second man stopped struggling then and just lay there, probably unconscious. What worried Lassiter more was the gun he suddenly saw in the first man's hand.

"Police! Drop the gun!"

"It's Henry Spencer", the first man tiredly said, took the gun by the barrel and put it down on the pier, out of reach of the unconscious man.

"Henry?", Carlton asked incredulously as he came to a halt beside the man. What on earth was Spencer's father doing here?

"What happened? Where's Shawn?", Juliet asked breathlessly as she came to a stop beside the two men.

Henry got to his feet, his right hand coming up to cover his upper right arm.

"Henry, you're bleeding!", Juliet exclaimed.

Henry just shook his head. "It's just a scratch, the gun went off as we struggled. We caught the bastard as he was chasing down Eric."

"Robertson is here? Where is he?"

Henry hurried over towards the railing of the pier, where he had last seen his son. "He tossed the kid over the railing. Shawn went in after him."

The three stared down at the turbulent water, searching for any sign of Shawn or Eric. After a second or two, Lassiter started pulling off his jacket.

"O'Hara, call EMTs and the Coast Guard. I'm going in after them."

As Juliet reached for her radio, Lassiter made move to climb the railing, but Henry's hand on his arm held him back.

"Don't", was all he said, and Lassiter stared at Shawn's father in astonishment.

"What? Didn't you just say your son was in there?"

Henry nodded with a sigh. "How good a swimmer are you, Carlton? Because with a sea that rough, the current is going to pull you under the pier." He looked up at the detective. "Ever taken a swim under a pier? It's like a real-life Pachinko machine, and you are the ball. Call the Coast Guard."

"So you want to do nothing?"

Henry turned around. "I didn't say that. But if you jump in after Shawn and Eric from here, it means the Coast Guard will have one more person to pull out. We need to get in from the beach, maybe we can reach them for there."

The two men turned around to see Juliet cuffing Garner to the railing of the pier. "Coast Guard is on its way, as are the EMTs. ETA is about eight minutes."

"We need to get to Shawn and the kid before that", Henry said and the three started running down the pier.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The gunshot registered with Shawn the fragment of a second before he dove underwater. Had that cop gotten to his gun before Henry had reached him? Or had his father gotten a hold of the gun? But his father wouldn't just shoot a perp if he was disarmed, so something else must have happened.

Shawn forced those thoughts from his mind as he struggled against the movement of the water. He needed to find Eric now, that was the most important thing.

The water was rough, but as he dove deeper he could still feel the current, but it was no longer tossing and turning him from one direction to the other. He had gone into the water from roughly the same spot Eric had fallen, but with the water not being calm, he didn't have much time. The more time passed that Eric was underwater, the farther he could be drifted away from Shawn.

Shawn kicked hard along with the current, both hands stretched out in front of him, grasping wildly at the water. His lungs started burning and he needed to get up for air, but he knew that if he surfaced now, he'd probably never find Eric again. He could hold out a few seconds longer.

Seaweed and algae passed through Shawn's fingers, but just as he thought his lungs were going to burst if he didn't surface soon, his right hand brushed against something else. Fabric. Not thinking, Shawn grabbed at it, kicking to the surface while he pulled whatever it was his hand had caught closer. It took a moment to register that he was holding onto an arm, but once he figured that out he knew where to reach to grab Eric under the armpits and pull him up more quickly.

Eric was struggling, feebly, Shawn was relieved to notice. But the way the kid was jerking, he was about to take a deep breath, whether or not he was still under water.

They broke the surface and immediately a wave broke over them, pulling them under again. They resurfaced a second later, Shawn taking deep gulps of air, and Eric chocking and coughing. Now that he was getting some air again, Eric's struggles grew more forceful. He started kicking and trying to twist out of Shawn's grasp, not understanding that it was Shawn's hold on him that kept him above the water in the first place. Shawn didn't begrudge him for not thinking clearly, but all Eric's struggles did was pull them both under again.

"Eric", he yelled over the sound of the waves as they surfaced again. "Eric's, it's me!"

He loosened his grip around Eric's body somewhat to force the boy's face towards him with a hand. "It's me."

"Shawn?"

Eric was still struggling for breath, but Shawn guessed that it was the shock more than anything else.

"Yes, it's me. Just hold on, I've got you."

Eric wrapped his arms tightly around Shawn's neck and Shawn freed one of his arms from holding Eric to start swimming back towards the beach. If they could just stay on the surface and use the waves pushing them forward, he'd only have to kick hard when the water retreated and pulled them away from the beach again. It would take a little, but they'd get to the beach safely.

The next wave raised them up and Shawn tried to turn sideways. But before he could even look into the direction of the beach, Eric yelled something over the roar of the waves and before Shawn could even fully register that he didn't understand the words, something slammed into his back with the force of a brick-wall coming at him at fifty miles and hour. Shawn lost his grip on Eric and only the boy's dead-grip around his neck held them together, but they went under water again.

It felt like his back was on fire, despite the cold water, and as they surfaced again Shawn was coughing so hard that it was difficult to draw breath. They were under the pier, he realised with a start, and the water was pushing them along between the wooden support poles of the construction. It was one thing to swim towards the beach on the open ocean, but here, underneath the pier, the waves and currents were too strong and unpredictable. Shawn couldn't steer them into any specific direction, no matter how hard he struggled, all he could do was try to keep them above water for long enough until help arrived. Or until the water drove them to the beach.

Shawn felt the next wave raise them up and he tightened his grip on Eric, pressing the boy's head into his shoulder with a hand on the back of his head. He couldn't see where the supports poles of the pier were, it was too dark around him and he still had his back to the beach, so there was no way to brace himself.

The wave was pushing them along rapidly now and Shawn no longer knew whether to hold his breath or whether to try and suck in as much oxygen as he could while he still could.

Something brushed his left leg and for a glorious second Shawn thought they had missed another of the poles by inches, but just as he drew a couple of rapid breaths in relief the wave tossed them against another of the poles. Shawn's left shoulder took the brunt of the impact this time, not his back, and as the wave broke above and around them Shawn suddenly realised that he was under water again and he hadn't even had the chance to draw a breath. But somehow, he just couldn't move. His back, his shoulder, all that was just one mass of burning pain, his lungs were joining into the chorus, and his limbs just wouldn't follow his commands anymore.

Then he felt Eric kicking out, struggling to bring them to the surface but failing, and his body slid back under his command. If there ever was a time not to give up, this was it.

The waves were breaking all around them now, making it difficult to stay above water for long. Shawn didn't even know in which direction the beach was anymore, there was nothing he could focus on, nothing he could do but make sure that he and Eric had a few precious seconds to draw breath before the next wave crashed over them again. It was getting harder and harder to know up from down, Eric was a dead weight in his arms, clutching at Shawn's neck, and Shawn felt like a human flipper-ball as he was pushed into yet another of the poles. He tried to hold on to it with his free arm, if he could only stop their movement and make sure that they stayed in one place, they could wait this out till help arrived. But the pole was too slippery, and his arm was hurting too much, and before Shawn even had the chance to make a grab for it his fingers were brushing along the thick wooden beam and then it was gone.

And that was when Shawn knew, with a sudden clarity, that they weren't going to make it out of this mess. For all he knew, they could still be drifting underneath the platform at the end of the pier and not be one yard closer to the beach. His father might have been shot, and who knew when Jules and Lassiter would arrive. If they didn't come within the next minute or two, it would be too late.

Shawn no longer kicked along with the current, all he did was hold on to Eric with all his strength as yet another wave broke and pulled them under. It took them longer and longer to get to the surface again, and just as Shawn was drawing the first coughing breath, the water raised them up again, their speed increased, then suddenly there was an explosion of pain in the back of Shawn's head and everything went dark.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"O'Hara, get the Maglite from the car!", Lassiter yelled as the three of them reached the end of the pier. Juliet ran across the beach and towards the car as fast as she could, and Henry and Lassiter hurried down underneath the pier and into the water.

From down here, the ocean looked even more rough than from up at the pier, the white spray of the breaking waves the only points of orientation in the dark water.

"Do you see anything?", Lassiter yelled, but Henry acted as if he hadn't heard the detective. He kept on running into the water wordlessly, his eyes roaming the darkness ahead for any sign of his son.

They needed some light, and they needed it fast. Already, the water was nearly reaching Henry's hips, and the farther he got in the harder it got to keep his balance as the waves tugged forcefully at him on their way to the beach. Henry knew that he couldn't loose his footing, otherwise the water would only pull him out, as well.

Lassiter was wading through the water beside him. The detective was at an advantage. His slightly taller build allowed him to go further into the water without losing his balance. But without any light, they could walk in as far as they wanted to, they'd probably not find Shawn or Eric, anyway.

And then there suddenly was a beam of light bopping over the surface from behind them. Lassiter turned towards her.

"Don't go in too far, O'Hara", Lassiter yelled at the smaller detective. "Sweep the light from side to side, slowly."

Juliet nodded and started sweeping the light from left to right. It was a strong flashlight, able to penetrate the darkness ahead, but still the rising and breaking waves made it difficult to see anything. Lassiter and Henry stood there, their eyes following the light of the flashlight with bated breath.

"There!", Henry yelled. "Keep the light pointed there!"

He stretched out his arm and Juliet quickly pointed the flashlight back into that direction. Lassiter strained his eyes, and just as he thought that Henry had probably imagined seeing whatever he thought he had seen, the flashlight suddenly lightened on something floating on the surface.

"It's them!", Lassiter shouted over the sound of the waves as he recognised what he saw as two heads floating on the surface of the water. They were ten, maybe twelve metres away, but with the water as rough as it was now, it might as well have been miles.

Juliet struggled to keep the flashlight pointed at Shawn's and Eric's heads, and Henry started towards his son without thinking about it. He was slower than he would have liked, much slower, but the water nearly reached his chest by now and it was getting almost impossible to keep his footing. The water was slowly floating Shawn and Eric towards them, but they needed to get to them as fast as possible.

Another wave broke and suddenly Henry could no longer see his son's head.

"Juliet!", he yelled. "Get the light back on them!"

The light started swerving slightly, never straying too far from the spot where Shawn and Eric had vanished, but it took endlessly long until suddenly the two heads broke the surface again. Henry was watching his son as intently as possible, and even though Shawn was still some metres away he was worried by what he saw. There was barely any sputtering as Shawn broke the surface again, and Henry could see that his son was too exhausted for much besides trying to stay above water.

"Henry, watch out!", he heard Lassiter yell. A large wave was coming towards them, and with wide eyes Henry watched as it raised Shawn and Eric up. The wave would take the two quite a bit closer to the beach, maybe even close enough for Henry and Lassiter to grab them, but somehow Henry knew that something would happen even before it did. And all he could do was watch as the wave carried Shawn and Eric dangerously close to one of the support poles the pier was resting on.

Henry was already moving forward again as he saw his son being thrown against the pole. Shawn's head hit the wood and Henry saw how Shawn's body went slack. No longer thinking about keeping his own footing, Henry threw himself into the water and started to swim over towards his son.

He plunged under water and grabbed for his son. His fingers closed around Shawn's shirt and he pulled, but Shawn was too heavy. And suddenly, Lassiter was beside him and together the two men somehow, Henry didn't know how, managed to get Shawn and the child back to the surface. Eric was still clinging to Shawn's neck, and without bothering to pry the child off of Shawn each man grabbed one of Shawn's arms and started pulling him towards the beach.

It was too slow, only getting faster again as the two men had ground underneath their feet and the water no longer reached up to their shoulders.

Juliet came running towards them as fast as the water would allow.

"Get the kid", Lassiter said and with a nod, Juliet reached for Eric's arm and pulled him towards herself. At first he resisted, didn't want to let go of Shawn, but he was too weak to put up much of a fight as Juliet pried his arms away from Shawn's neck and pulled him towards herself.

"Can you walk?"

Eric nodded numbly and with a firm grip on the boy's arm Juliet led him out of the water. Henry and Lassiter were dragging Shawn along faster now, and as soon as they had cleared the water, the two let go of Shawn's arms and fell to their knees beside the psychic.

Trembling slightly from the exhaustion, Lassiter brought a hand up to Shawn's neck.

"I got a pulse", he said with a sigh of relief.

"He's not breathing", Henry said at nearly the same time, voice frantic

"Where are those EMTs?", Lassiter yelled at nobody in particular, but Henry didn't even listen to him. He took Shawn's chin in his hand, tilted his head back, and started rescue breathing.


	10. You can't run away forever

**Chapter 9 – You can't runaway forever**** (but there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start)**

"Come on, Shawn", Henry mumbled between two breaths. "Breathe!"

Lassiter still had his fingers on Shawn's throat, controlling his pulse, and each time Henry blew a breath into Shawn's lungs he saw his son's chest rise and fall, but nothing else happened. Shawn didn't start spitting out seawater, he didn't start coughing, and worst of all, he didn't start breathing on his own.

Henry completely lost sight of everything around him. He was barely aware of Lassiter, and that only in case the head detective noticed something off about Shawn's heartbeat, but he was no longer aware of Juliet and Eric standing slightly to the side. All that his thoughts were focussed on was his son, and the fact that Shawn was not breathing. And if he didn't start breathing again soon…he'd start breathing again. Period. There was no alternative, and he wouldn't even start thinking about it.

Henry didn't know for how long he had been trying to resuscitate Shawn when there were suddenly two men falling to their knees beside him, starting to unpack equipment and throwing out questions about what had happened. Henry heard Lassiter's voice answer and focussed on blowing the next breath into his son's lungs.

When Henry came up again, there was a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him away.

"Sir, we'll take over from here."

And before Henry knew what was happening, the two EMTs were bent over Shawn, continuing Henry's attempts to resuscitate Shawn, leaving Henry with nothing to do but stare. Shawn looked thoroughly drenched, and for the first time since pulling him out of the ocean Henry noticed the torn shirt and the numerous cuts and scratches along his hands and arms. He must have been tossed around and against those poles badly. Especially that last wave that had thrown him against that support beam had been bad. Shawn was lying on his back, but Henry saw the blood in his son's hair, on the back of Shawn's head. Another hand tugging on his right arm brought Henry out of his stupor. He allowed Lassiter to pull him to his feet.

"Another ambulance is on its way, you need to have your arm looked after."

Confused, Henry looked down his arm to figure out what Lassiter was talking about. Only when he saw the torn sleeve of his shirt did he remember that bullet grazing him earlier. He hadn't even thought about it anymore. There was no hurry to have this looked after, the wound had already stopped bleeding.

Juliet and Eric were standing a few feet to their right. Juliet had taken off her still relatively dry jacket and had it draped around Eric's shoulders, but still the boy was shaking from the cold and exhaustion. There were tears running down his face as he stared down at the EMTs working on Shawn, but he was standing a slight distance away from Juliet as if refusing to accept comfort from her.

Slowly, Henry walked over to the boy.

"Are you all right?"

Eric shrugged and nodded at the same time, not taking his eyes off Shawn. Henry could see that the boy was under shock, and he crouched down slightly so that he was on eye level with Eric. Then he put a hand on the boy's chin and turned his head slightly.

"Are you all right, Eric?"

This time Eric only nodded, without the shrugging.

"Good. As soon as the other ambulance is here, you're going to the hospital to get yourself checked out. And you need to get out of those drenched clothes."  
Eric stared at Henry wordlessly, looking for all the world as if Henry was speaking a different language. His trembling lips started to form words, but it took a moment until his voice caught up with it.

"It's my fault", he finally brought out.

Henry shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"Yes. It's my fault. Shawn's hurt and it's my fault."

Eric bit his lip, but he couldn't help the sob that escaped. Henry reacted the only way he could think of. He put a hand on the back of Eric's head and pulled the boy close. Eric didn't struggle, he fell against Henry as if merely the task of standing upright was costing him too much strength, and started sobbing into Henry's chest. Henry wrapped his arms tightly around the shaking boy and simply held him.

"It's not your fault, Eric. And it's going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right, you'll see."

Henry didn't know where the confidence in his words came from, because he was certainly not feeling it. Over the top of Eric's head, his eyes were still focussed on his son's body and the EMTs working on him. Was it only his imagination, or were their movements getting more frantic? Suddenly, one of the medics moved position, tore open Shawn's shirt and started chest compressions.

Henry's heart made a soul-tearing leap in his chest. This couldn't be happening. Not to Shawn. They had gotten him out of the water, this just couldn't happen. Not now.

Henry let go of Eric and started hurrying over to his son's side.

Suddenly, the sound of rattling coughs broke the silence on the beach.

"That's it, that's it, just spit it out", one of the EMTs was saying as the two men carefully turned Shawn to the side so that he wouldn't choke on the water he was in the process of coughing up.

For a moment, Henry thought that his knees would buckle beneath him. Shawn was breathing again, that was a good sign, right? It meant that his son would be all right, it simply had to.

In a flurry of activity, the EMTs fixed an oxygen mask on Shawn's face and put on a neck brace. The way they were careful of moving Shawn around told Henry that they were worried about a possible back injury, and he felt his worry rising again. Being slammed against those wooden poles could do quite a lot of damage, and from the looks of it Shawn had been slammed against them repeatedly. And hard. Henry didn't know for how long he'd be able to stand this rollercoaster of worry and temporary relief. Only Shawn could do that to him. Only Shawn.

Once Shawn was strapped in and ready for transport, the EMTs started moving him off the beach.

"Henry, do you want to ride to the hospital with him?", Juliet asked.

Truth be told, there was nothing Henry wanted more. He didn't fancy letting Shawn out of his sight for just one minute right now. But then his eyes fell on Eric, still standing right next to him and looking every bit as if he was about to collapse any moment now, and Henry couldn't bring himself to leave the scared boy alone with the police officers right now. It wouldn't take long for everything that had happened that day to catch up with the boy, and once it did, it might not be good if he found himself solely in the company of the police officers he was so afraid of. He looked at Juliet.

"Could you go with him? I'll wait for the other ambulance with Eric."

Juliet nodded and quickly followed the EMTs over towards the road. Lassiter looked after the little procession for a moment, then turned back towards Henry.

"All right, let's go up to the road. We can just as well wait for the ambulance there."

As they set off, Henry for the first time really noticed that reinforcements had arrived some time ago. With all that had been going on, he had felt as if they were the only people on the beach. He saw Garner being put into the back of a squad-car, one of many that were suddenly standing on Shoreline Road. Just as they reached the road, the ambulance carrying Shawn took off towards the hospital. Henry gently led Eric over towards Gus' car and sat him down in the driver's seat while they waited for the second ambulance to arrive.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Shawn had the single most horrible, skull-splitting, brain-drilling, nauseating headache of his entire life. He didn't know where he was or what had happened, but he was sure that this headache was number two on the all-time headache ranking. It even pushed the new year's hangover of 1999 onto a far-off third place. It was a close race, but the murder headache after the waterslide-incident in 1989 still topped the list. That one would lead the all-time headache ranking forever, Gus could confirm that. And Gus should know, his thick skull had played a vital part in how Shawn had acquired the mother of all headaches in the first place.

Slowly, afraid that any light might render him constantly blind or increase the pounding in his head, if that was even possible, Shawn opened first one eye, then the other.

After eighteen years of rule, the waterslide-headache gave up the first place willingly, and quickly, because even the dim light in the room Shawn was in made his head pound as if it was about to spontaneously combust any second now.

Shawn suppressed a groan. A short look had been enough.

He was in a hospital. Just great. With no recollection of how he had ended here. Even better.

"Shawn?"

And his Dad was here. Well, that was just the icing on the cake. If he was in hospital and his Dad was here, a lecture was unavoidable. And with his headache, Shawn doubted that he could take a lecture now.

His father moved into his line of vision and suddenly a lot of things started to feel extremely strange to Shawn. There was an oxygen mask on his face, which he found mildly disturbing, but even more confusing was that he found himself lying on his right side. With a frown, he slowly brought up his left hand (not a very good idea, moving it meant pain, he had to keep that in mind) and tried to pull down the oxygen mask. A hand softly reached for his wrist and pulled his hand away slowly.

"No. You will keep that mask on for the rest of the night, no discussion about it."

"Why…", Shawn started to speak, not having enough air to form an entire sentence right now. His voice was muffled through the mask, but Henry understood what his son wanted to ask.

"Because you weren't breathing when Carlton and I pulled you out of the ocean, Shawn. So as I said, no discussion about the mask."

Ocean? When had he been in the ocean? He hadn't been to the beach in quite a while, the weather had been awful. Unless of course you counted chasing Eric and that cop down the pier…

Eric!

As that thought hit home Shawn tried to sit up, and it wasn't his wisest choice he had ever made. Henry's hands on his shoulders immediately pushed him down into the mattress again, but even moving a little had raised Shawn's pain levels to degrees he had previously thought impossible.

"Stay still, Shawn. You're not supposed to be moving around, much less getting up. The doctor said you'd probably be sore all over."

Shawn tried to catch his father's eyes, still struggling to form words underneath the oxygen mask. Realising that he couldn't understand his son, and that he couldn't read his son's lips under the fogged up plastic, Henry rolled his eyes and reached for the oxygen mask.

"Only for talking, this will go back on soon."

He pulled the oxygen mask down below Shawn's chin.

"Eric? He all right?"

Henry nodded. "Yes, he is. Thanks to you. He was a bit shaken up, a bit too cold, but nothing serious. The doctors want to keep him overnight for observation, though, to make sure that the little swim you two took didn't cause any lasting damage. He's over in the paediatric ward."

"That cop? I heard a shot."

Unconsciously, Henry raised his hand to his upper arm, covering the bandage underneath his sleeve, and Shawn's eyes widened as he caught the gesture. "You're hurt?"

Henry shook his head. "Nothing serious, just a scratch. That bastard got off a shot, but he's behind bars now. You've taken the brunt of the damage."

Yes, maybe this would be the right time to have some questions answered. Like the question where in the world all this pain came from. Surely there was a limit to how much pain one single person could be in. Shawn was fairly sure that there was a law against that much pain. "What's wrong?"

Henry looked at Shawn for a long moment, then he sighed. "Fortunately, not as much as could have gone wrong. Aside from the fact that you weren't breathing for a while, which I might add is something I could very well have lived without experiencing, you collided with those support beams one time too often. You have a mild concussion and a nasty gash on the back of your head. It was pure luck that you didn't break your left shoulder. Be glad you're not a left-handed, because your shoulder is one big bruise right now. Moving it will be painful for a while. Bruised ribs on the left side, fortunately none cracked or broken. Else, you're covered in cuts and bruises from colliding with every single support beam underneath that pier. They took about a pound of wood in splinters out of you. Your back looks pretty bad, that's why you're lying on your side. Get used to it, that'll be your sleeping position for the next couple of days. The doctors say it's a small wonder that you didn't break even one single bone. But right now, you're probably the world's biggest living bruise."

Shawn frowned at his father's words, trying to take all of it in. "And Eric is all right?"

Henry sighed. "Yes. Compared to you, he's in pristine condition. You took the brunt of all the impacts."

Shawn grimaced. "Not deliberately. I mean, I would have, but it was too dark to even see those support poles. I didn't know where the next one would come up, it was pure luck that he didn't get hit." He frowned again, still processing the information about his injuries. "So it's just a concussion?"

"_Just a concussion_? Didn't you listen to what I just said?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Yes. Bruises, cuts, pain, yadda yadda. I can live with that. But if I have just a concussion, I can get myself discharged."

Henry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're going to stay the night for observation. And once the doctor has examined you again, we'll see about whether or not you can be discharged."

Shawn looked around the room, for the first time taking in the single light burning on the nightstand in the otherwise darkened room.

"What time is it?"

Henry checked his watch. "Nearly one a.m."

"Why are you here so late? Aren't there visiting hours?"

Henry chuckled. "Yes. And as the nurses reminded me about them, I politely refused to go."

"How many nurses ended up in tears when you did that?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "I just told them I wouldn't go. In a determined manner. They didn't ask twice. I wanted to wait until you woke up."

Shawn shifted uncomfortably on the bed – also not a good idea because even the slight movement caused discomfort. His father was being too nice. And that was never good, because normally if he was nice, the explosion afterwards only got worse.

Henry watched his son shift around slightly with a frown on his face.

"What is it?"

"I'm waiting for the outburst."

"What outburst?"

Shawn sighed. "Come on, Dad. Don't tell me you don't know that we've got a little routine going on here. I end up in hospital for some reason, you come visit me and start yelling. You know, about being reckless, about faking to be a psychic, about my life and choices in general."

Henry leaned back in his chair and watched his son with a slight smile on his face. "No outburst today. And no yelling."

Not thinking about it, Shawn tried to rise up onto his elbows again. Again, the feeling that his whole body was sore stopped him before he came very far.

"Don't tempt me Shawn. You try to sit up again and I'll might just rethink the idea about the yelling."

Shawn frowned. "But why aren't you chewing me out for what happened?"

Henry shrugged. "Because there's no reason to chew you out for anything. You did good today, Shawn."

Shawn sank more deeply into his pillow. "Now I know this is a hallucination."

Henry smiled. "I still do think that this case would have been far more easy to handle if you could simply give the police tips without having to hide where you really got the information from. But that doesn't have anything to do with what happened last night. Eric was tossed over that railing and you went in after him. And you did good, because if you hadn't done that, Eric would be dead now. I could have done without all the excitement before and afterwards, but I'm proud of what you did."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Now that's a first."

Henry shook his head. "No, actually it isn't. And now go ahead and sleep some more, kiddo. I'll wake you in two hours, you know the drill."

Shawn sighed. "Great. Concussion checks."

"Finally stop getting concussions, then you can sleep through the nights again. And now try to get some more rest. Gus was here earlier, he said he'd be back tomorrow morning. And he wasn't too excited about sitting at my house all evening, waiting for one of us to call. You'll definitely want to be well-rested for that."

Shawn was tired, that was true, and while he still contemplated the pros and cons of going back to sleep, his eyes drifted close and he was fast asleep again. He didn't even notice that Henry slipped the oxygen mask back on his face and straightened the blanket before he settled more comfortably in his chair for the next two hours.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Shawn had never gone to college or studied medicine, but he knew that normally, doctors went to college for years before they were let loose on patients. He had the strong suspicion that the doctor who had signed his release had skipped the college part of his education and had taken a two-week night class instead. Shawn couldn't believe that the guy had not only allowed him to go home – which had been part of the plan – but had also allowed him to go home without prescribing any painkillers. That hadn't been part of Shawn's plan. _Take some Tylenol and try not to move too much_. Yeah, right. Shawn certainly wouldn't move too much, because moving meant excruciating pain. And it didn't matter whether he moved his entire body or just a single finger. Life wasn't fair.

His Dad had dutifully woken Shawn up every two hours during the night, but he had gone for breakfast when the doctor had started preparing Shawn's release papers. So now Shawn was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to muster up enough energy to get up and move down into the cafeteria to search for his father.

Sitting was one of the two positions that worked for Shawn right now. The other was lying on his right side, but he had done that for the entire night, he needed a change. Standing made him feel like an old man because his bruised ribs were wrapped up tightly and his back and left shoulder were messed up badly enough so that he couldn't stretch out completely, which made Shawn feel like Quasimodo whenever he tried to stand up straight.

He had actually gotten quite a shock when he had seen himself in the bathroom mirror earlier. His Dad hadn't been joking when he had called him the world's biggest living bruise. His back wasn't too bad, it was more scratched than bruised, but his shoulder was a tasteful and extensive arrangement of different shades of blue and purple.

The bad thing, Shawn only now realised, was that he wasn't just hurting in one place. If he had a broken rib, he could avoid moving in ways which would aggravate the pain. But if he tried to avoid stressing his ribs, the movements hurt his back or shoulder. Not to mention his head, which was still pounding away happily.

The door to his room opened and Shawn half-expected his father to come through. Slowly, he got up from the bed, grimacing as his sore ribs protested the movement. But it wasn't Henry who came into the hospital room, it was Juliet and Gus. Seeing the pained expression on his face, Juliet immediately hurried to his side.

"Are you all right, Shawn? Do I need to call a doctor?"

Shawn shook his head, slowly so as not to aggravate his headache. "No, it's all right. They released me already. Hey Gus."  
"They released you?", Gus asked, and undertone of disbelief in his voice. "No way, you look like hell."

"Why thanks, Gus. It's good to see you, too."

"Don't expect me to be sympathetic, Shawn. I've been stuck at your father's place for the entire evening, not knowing what was going on. At some point late in the night your father finally calls me over to the hospital where I get to know that you nearly drowned. I didn't exactly have a fun-night, either."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "That sounds more dramatic than it actually was, Gus."

Juliet shook her head. "No. It was far worse than it sounded. You should have seen your Dad."

That Shawn was actually glad about missing. Seeing his father freak out wasn't exactly a favourite pastime activity of his.

"So, anything new on the case?"

Juliet smiled. "Actually, yes. Garner confessed, to everything. He was tipping Griggs off about customs controls. Seems like Griggs was still dealing with stolen goods, mostly art and sculptures. Those were hidden amongst his pottery imports. Garner says Griggs initially approached him about it, but there's no way for us to make sure. It's been going on for nearly eighteen months now, but Garner said suddenly Griggs no longer wanted to pay him. Threatened to rat him out to Internal Affairs if Garner didn't give the tips for free. That night in the warehouse, it escalated. Garner said he never intended to shoot Griggs, but they fought and Griggs came towards him in a threatening manner, he reacted instinctively and pulled his gun." She shrugged. "We'll have to wait for Eric's statement to see if that adds up. But when we released Eric's picture, Garner realised that he was a potential witness. He chased him down and tried to cover his tracks."

But Shawn shook his head. "I doubt that Eric has seen anything. But it doesn't make sense, Jules. If Garner thought the only thing tying him to the murder was Eric's statement, why should he confess to the murder now? Why didn't he make out a crackpot story that would put Eric in a bad light? After all he is a cop, Eric's just an eleven year old runaway, and there's no physical proof so far. So why the confession?"

Juliet's smile grew wider. "You haven't seen Carlton last night. He had no change of clothes at the station, and wearing a pair of soaking wet pants and one of McNabb's t-shirts definitely did nothing to improve his mood. I caught him glaring at me and very nearly confessed to borrowing his stapler and not returning it. Carlton didn't plan on leaving that interrogation room without a confession, and he got it. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen."

And Shawn had missed it. Though it was probably for the better. Lassiter had this strange habit of letting out his bad mood on Shawn, so maybe it was really the best that he hadn't been there during the worst mood of the year.

"You're here to get a statement from Eric?", Shawn asked Juliet.

She shook her head. "No, his parents are going to bring him over to the station for that later. He should be released soon."

Shawn didn't like the sound of that. Not after seeing how terrified Eric had been of them. "Are they with him now?"

Juliet shrugged. "I don't know. I know they were brought over here last evening, your father and I were in the waiting room when they arrived. But I saw them leave later on, so I don't know if they're back yet or not."

"They left?"

Juliet nodded. "Yes, around the same time I did. I saw them in the garage and I remember thinking that it was strange. After all, their kid had been missing for over three weeks."

"Maybe the mother just went to get some clothes from the hotel", Gus threw in.

"Maybe." Juliet sighed. "But I'm not so sure. There was something…off about them."

Shawn picked up on the tone of her voice. "What do you mean, off?"

"I don't know, it's hard to describe. When I first met them, it was obvious that on some level, the mother was worried about Eric. But that stepfather…well, he didn't seem all too worried. Now, Eric isn't his child, so I think it might be because of that, sad as it is. But he's strange. Really strange. There's something about him that just doesn't feel right."

"What?"

Juliet shrugged. "Hard to put into words. He's extremely handsome. One of those guys everybody looks at. Athletic, outdoorsy type, dazzling smile. And whenever he said something during the Chief's briefing, you should have seen the mother. It was as if she forgot she had a son at all. I don't know. I got the feeling that whenever her husband is around, her priorities are somewhat screwed up."

Shawn thought for a moment. "All right, could you do me a favour? Could you stay here for a moment in case my Dad comes back to fetch me?"

"And where are you going?", Gus asked, stepping slightly into his friend's way.

"I'm going to visit Eric." He looked Gus straight in the eyes, hoping that his friend would understand. "There's something I need to ask him before his parents come back."

And Gus understood, because he nodded immediately and took a step to the side. "Do you need any help getting there?"

Shawn shook his head. "Thanks, I'll manage. I'm like a perpetual motion machine, I only need to get moving. Once I do, the pain will go away."

"Shawn, that's not what a perpetual motion machine is about. A perpetual motion machine is a closed system of motion that puts out more energy than is put into it, which isn't possible because it's in violation to Newton's First Law of Motion. It has nothing at all to do with you being sore all over."

Shawn stared at Gus for a moment, then he nodded. "All right. Note to self: buy dictionary. English-Geek Speak. Quickly. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go find the paediatric ward."

"Third floor", Juliet supplied from behind Gus.

"Thanks you, Juliet. See Gus, that's how it's done. Two one-syllable words, and already the lady conveyed far more useful information than you did in your little speech about Darwin and his law-thingy. Catch up with you later guys."

And Shawn waddled more than walked out of the room. Gus stared after him for a moment, at a loss for words.

"It's Newton!", he finally called after him, then he sank down in a chair. "And to think I was actually worried about the guy just a few hours back. And now he's already driving me up the walls again."

Juliet chuckled and pulled up another chair beside Gus'.

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So it might have nothing to do with Newton and whatever he had discovered about motion (and clearly, the guy had had too much time on his hands. Gravity _and_ motion? Come on, that Newton quite obviously didn't have a life), but once Shawn got into motion the pain lessened. It didn't vanish completely, but it didn't hurt as badly as the first few steps had done.

All right, so he looked silly waddling along the corridor at first, but it got better and by the time he reached the elevator at least he no longer looked as if he was about to lay an egg.

He got Eric's room number from the nurse at the duty station and walked down the corridor. The door to Eric's room was closed, so Shawn knocked, and when no answer was forthcoming, opened the door a crack and peered in.

"Eric?"

Something fell to the floor inside, and Shawn quickly opened the door all the way and hurried into the room. Well, hurried as fast as his current level of pain would allow. At first glance, the room seemed empty, but as Shawn stepped up to the bed he found what he had been looking for.

Eric was standing in front of the wardrobe, fully dressed, backpack in hand, staring down with wide eyes at the remains of his breakfast tray which had fallen to the floor. It didn't take long for Shawn to understand what the boy had been about to do. With a sigh, Shawn limped the rest of the way towards the bed and sat down on it.

"Hey Eric."

"Shawn!" The haunted and shocked look on Eric's face was replaced by surprise, and even a slight portion of joy. "I…it was…are you all right? The doctors told me you were all right, I was just about to come down and visit you."

Shawn smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, you weren't. Eric, I'm not stupid. I know that you were about to run away again."

Eric bit his lip and nervously looked down at the floor. Shawn only hoped that he wouldn't decide to bolt, because he was definitely not in the condition to chase after him now.

Shawn sighed and patted the bed beside him. "Sit down for a moment, will you?"

Hesitantly, Eric did, not meeting Shawn's eyes. Shawn put a hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"All right, first things first. How are you doing?"

Eric shrugged. "Fine. I'm fine. I just got wet. You're the one who stopped breathing."

Shawn sighed. "Yeah, I can imagine that was a bit scary."

Eric shrugged again. "It was. I mean, you nearly died and it was my fault."

"Hey." Shawn reached out and gently pulled Eric's chin around so that he was looking at him. He waited patiently until Eric's eyes finally met his. "What happened was not your fault, Eric. And I'm fine, so there's no need for you to get worked up about it."

"It's not that easy."

Shawn squeezed Eric's shoulder again. "You'll get there. Now, do you want to tell me why you wanted to run again?"

Eric swallowed hard and bit his lip again. "They're releasing me today."

"I know. And now you're afraid of going home with your mother and stepfather again."

Eric got up from the bed, but instead of running out of the room as Shawn feared, he just stood there, gnawing on his lower lip. "I can't go back. I just can't, Shawn."  
"Because of your stepfather."

Eric looked at Shawn, expression shocked. Shawn sighed. This was where it got difficult.

"My Dad told me that your stepfather is hitting you."

"I…it's…he can't just…"

Shawn stretched out his hand and gently pulled Eric closer. "He didn't rat out on you, Eric. But he knows that for as long as you're keeping that kind of thing a secret, it's difficult to help you."

"Nobody can help me!", Eric yelled. "Nobody ever helped me! As soon as I'm out of here, I'll have to go back to them, and nobody cares about what will happen to me then!"

"I care", Shawn said softly. Eric looked at him, startled, as if he couldn't quite believe that he had heard right. But after a moment he shook his head.

"Nobody will believe me, Shawn. Nobody. Everybody loves Stan. Everybody shops at is electronics store, he's always volunteering to help out on school trips and he's the soccer coach of all our neighbourhood-kids. Everybody thinks he's a saint, nobody will believe me!"

"Have you ever tried?"

"What?"

Shawn put an arm around Eric's shoulder and pulled him closer to the bed again. "You told my Dad that he was hitting you, and my Dad believed you. Gus and I believe you. So what makes you think that the police won't believe you?"

Eric shook his head. "I just can't do that, Shawn."

"So you'd rather run away again."

"It's the best for everybody."

Shawn shook his head. "No, it isn't. It's not the best for you, and that's what's most important to me. It's too dangerous for you on the street, and you're ruining your whole future with it. You need to go to school, you need a regular life."  
"I don't have no regular life."

"Listen Eric, I know that running away seems like such an easy solution, but it isn't. It makes things a whole lot more difficult for you than they should be, that's all. You can try to run away from the bad things in your life, but that doesn't make them go away. And sooner or later, they catch up with you. They always do. You just can't run away forever. There comes the point when you have to face up to the things you're running away from."

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but Shawn squeezed his shoulder again and shook his head.

"No. I know that it seems scary, and that you think you can't do it, but I know you can. And right now you have people who'll see this through with you. You're not alone in this, Eric. I'll be with you for the entire way. But you have to do this, for yourself."

Eric was struggling to hold back tears, Shawn could see that. He was scared but didn't dare to let it show, but it was obvious that he couldn't keep the tears at bay for much longer.

"Hey, come here."

Eric didn't resist as Shawn put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close. Bonelessly, Eric leaned into him, buried his head against Shawn's shoulder and cried. It was the bad shoulder, but Shawn didn't say a word. He knew that all this was embarrassing enough for Eric, he could stand a little pain if it helped the boy.

Eric didn't sob, or fall apart, but the silent crying seemed to help to alleviate at least a little of the tension inside of him, which was far too much for an eleven year-old boy, anyway. Finally, Eric drew a deep breath, though he didn't move his head away from Shawn's shoulder.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to trust me. And to have a little courage, nothing else. Downstairs in my room, there's a woman called Juliet O'Hara. She's a very good friend of mine, and I trust her. I know that if you tell her the truth about your stepfather, she will help you."

Eric raised his head. "She's that policewoman who came to your apartment", he deduced.

Shawn nodded. "Yes, she is. And she's going to help you. You only have to have the courage to make the first step."

Eric stared down at his hands. "Can you…I mean, will you come with me?"

Shawn nodded. "Sure I will. I can't do it for you, but I'll be there the entire time."

Hesitantly, Eric nodded. "All right."

Shawn smiled and squeezed the boy's shoulder again. "Good. Then let's go. And don't mind me waddling alongside you, I'm a little sore. Just pretend I'm practicing for a comedy routine."  
That at least served to bring a small smile to Eric's face. Not much, but it was a start. Shawn kept his arm around Eric's shoulder as they walked out of the hospital room and towards the elevator.

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Henry stared down into his takeout cup of coffee, completely lost in thought. It didn't help that he had not slept the previous night, but even with sleep deprivation he knew he had to do something.

And actually, there weren't much choices he had. It was all only a question of whether or not he wanted to compromise himself. But if that was what it took, then so it had to be. Not really much need to think about it.

Henry drained his coffee and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket. He selected a number from his address book and hit the send button. It was picked up on the second ring.

"Vick."

"Karen, it's Henry."  
"Henry, how good to hear from you. How is Shawn, has there been any change since last night?"

"He's fine. They're releasing him this morning. Actually, I should probably go up soon to give him a ride home."

There was a moment's pause. "Why are you calling, Henry? Anything I can help you with?"

Henry sighed. "I wanted to ask you for a favour, Karen. A personal favour."

"Well, you know better than anybody else what is within my power and what's not, so just shoot ahead."

"I want you to pull Eric Robertson's medical records."

Another pause. "We already have those, Henry. It's standard procedure to add those to the file of a missing person, in case they show up and need medical treatment. But you know that, so what is it you're looking for?"

"Hospital stays."

There was the sound of paper shifting in the background, then Karen came back on the line. "Only two. He had his appendix removed when he was five, and then a year later he had an allergy test done after he came to the hospital with a horrible rash. Turns out he's allergic to raspberries. That's it."

Henry thought for a moment.

"Henry, are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry. I was thinking."

"Is this what you were looking for?"

Henry sighed. "No. Listen, I think you should contact the other hospitals in the LA-area. Search for treatments under Holly Robertson's maiden name, treatments that were paid in cash and don't show up on the regular medical record."

Karen was silent for a long moment. Henry knew that she had been a cop long enough to know the intention behind Henry's request.

"I'd need an incentive to do that, the hospitals won't give out those records without a good reason. The doctors who examined him yesterday saw no signs of abuse."

"Yeah, because he had been away from home for three weeks."

Karen's sigh carried loudly through the speaker. "Henry, let's stop beating about the bush and come to the point. What gives you reason to believe that he boy is being abused at home?"

Henry sighed. There was no going around it, he'd figure out how to explain his own involvement later. "He told me."

Another moment of silence. "When exactly did he tell you that, Henry? Yesterday evening, while you were watching the EMTs trying to resuscitate Shawn? Because to my best knowledge, the two of you didn't meet before that."

"We did. It's a longer story, Karen, and if you want to I'll gladly explain everything, but please pull those records first. We should make sure that it's safe for him to go home before we send him off, that's all I'm saying."

After a moment, Karen sighed. "All right. But I want you to come over to the station later, and I will get the full explanation then."

"Deal. Thank you, Karen."

"Don't thank me too early, Henry. It's not yet said that we'll find anything."

And she hung up. But as he put his phone back into his pocket, Henry was fairly sure that they'd find something. In his experience, abusive parents who got away with it for too long at some point started thinking that they were never going to be found out. And that's mostly when they started leaving evidence in their wake. And if there was one thing Henry was absolutely sure of, then it was that Eric hadn't been lying to him.  
Phone back in his pocket, Henry went back into the hospital. Shawn's paperwork should be finished now, time to give the kid a ride home.


	11. Sometimes all you have to do is ask

**Chapter 10 – Sometimes all you have to do is ask**

"All right, but inform the staff that you're bringing him to the station. Yes, I'll make sure of that. Thank you, O'Hara."

Karen Vick put the receiver of the phone back in its cradle and leaned back in her chair. After Henry's phone call she had still wanted to believe that all this would boil down to nothing but a wrong suspicion. But even then she hadn't been quite able to believe it. She knew Henry, and she knew that he wouldn't come forth with such a suspicion if he didn't believe there was anything to it.

And now O'Hara had called, informing her that Eric Robertson was asking for their help. With a sigh she got up from her chair and went into the break room to get some more coffee. It wasn't the first case of abuse she had ever handled over the course of her career, but those were the cases you didn't get used to. Especially not if you were a mother yourself. Besides, she had met the Robertsons only the day before, and while she agreed that the could have been more worried about their son's disappearance, she hadn't gotten any gut feelings about something going on beneath the surface.

Was she slipping?

Of course, the Robertsons didn't fit many of the clichés of an abusive family, but years of police work had taught Karen that those clichés weren't reliable indicators, anyway. Sometimes, all you had to start with was a feeling about something being wrong, and she hadn't had that feeling. But Henry had, and she trusted his judgement.

Pouring some milk into her coffee, she went over to Lassiter's desk. Her Head Detective's mood had improved slightly since the previous evening. No small wonder, at least now he was wearing dry clothes again. And there had only been room for improvement, his mood couldn't have possibly gotten any worse than it had been during his interrogation with Garner.

"I think those files you requested just arrived, Chief", Lassiter said and pointed towards the fax machine.

"Thank you, Carlton. Could you contact the Robertsons at their hotel? I want them over here at the station ASAP."

Lassiter frowned. "Any reason I should know of?"

"I'll brief you in a moment. For the time being, just tell them that we took Eric from the hospital to get his witness statement, and that they as his parents are supposed to be here for that. Then come into my office, please."

"Of course", Lassiter said and picked up the phone on his desk.

Karen went over towards the fax machine and pulled out the papers, then she went back into her office.

There were ways for medical treatment not to show up on somebody's medical record, and the easiest way was not to run the payment of the treatment through the insurance. If an injury didn't require a hospital stay but merely a treatment in the ER, you could even get away with giving a false name. The ER was notoriously the most busy place in a hospital, by the time somebody might figure out that something was wrong the treatment could already be long over.

Karen had handled a number of domestic abuse cases in which they had to dig up files for the abused by checking hospital records for treatments paid in cash, where the patient had been treated under an alias. In most cases, people didn't get very imaginative about those names. Taking maiden names was mostly enough to hit jackpot.

Eric Robertson had a medical history of two hospital stays, both easily justified. Appendix surgery and allergy treatment, nothing suspicious there.

Eric Wilkes had been treated in eight different hospitals in the LA-area over the past ten years. Each visit had been to a different hospital, and each treatment had been paid in cash. Each time he had been brought to hospital by his mother. Fractured wrist, caused by a fall from a bike. Laceration on the head that needed stitches, caused by a fall from a tree house. Dislocated shoulder, caused by a fall down the stairs. Bruised ribs, another fall from the bike. The list went on and on.

Each single incident seemed harmless enough in itself. Children fell from their bikes, children broke their arms. It happened. But not that often. Had all those treatments been on Eric's medical records, somebody would have gotten suspicious much earlier. Eric would have gotten help much earlier. Because the trips to the hospital were only the tip of the iceberg. Abusive parents only brought their children to the hospital when things got out of hand. Karen didn't want to think about how often Eric had been hurt and not been brought to the hospital.

There was a knock on her office door, and Karen put the papers down with a sigh.

"Come in."

Lassiter came into the office.

"Carlton, please take a seat."

Lassiter sat in front of Karen's desk. "The Robertsons are on their way, they should be here in fifteen minutes."

"Good. Thank you, Carlton."

"What is this about, Chief?"

Wordlessly, Karen pushed the papers over to Lassiter, who picked them up with a frown on his face.

"What are those?"

"Eric Robertson's medical records."

"Didn't we have those already?"

Karen sighed. "Just read them, Carlton."

Lassiter opened his mouth as if to say something, but then his eyes started scanning the first page and he shut up. He silently read through the papers without saying a word. Only his expression darkened with every page he turned. By the time he had finished with the last page, his expression was so dark that his mood of the previous day seemed cheerful in comparison.

"Those are all?"

Karen nodded. "All that could be found under the mother's maiden name, yes. But we'll have to keep on digging."

"What gave you the incentive to go looking for this?"

Karen sighed. "The kid's behaviour made some observant people suspicious. And about half an hour ago, O'Hara called. Eric Robertson asked her for help himself. She'll be bringing him over."

"You've informed Child Protective Services?"

Karen shook her head. "Not yet. First we need to his statement on record. And interview the mother and stepfather about what is going on."

A small, feral smile started playing around Lassiter's lips. "I'd like to take that interview, Chief."

"I thought you'd say that, Carlton. I want you to talk to the stepfather. I'd like to have a few words with the mother once they arrive here."

"Gladly. I'm going to make some copies of those."

He took the papers and got up from his chair. Karen took another sip of her coffee, then picked up her phone to make sure that there were two interrogation rooms at their disposal. Now all they could do was wait for the Robertsons to arrive.

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Shawn was proud how Eric handled himself. He had noticed how the boy's steps had gotten more hesitant as he approached Shawn's hospital room. In a way, Shawn was absolutely unable to relate to the terror Eric was feeling. Not only because his own father had never lain a hand on him as a child. That was part of it, but Shawn couldn't understand the irrational fear of the police that had been ingrained into Eric.

Growing up as a cop's son, Shawn had learned early that cops were only human beings, as well. And of course he had also learned to grow weary of the constant cop talk his father had forced him to endure. But there was one thing to be said about growing up as a cop's son – Shawn had always known that if something was wrong, he could go to the police. No matter how annoying it was that his father was a cop, or that he wanted him to become a cop as well, he had always known that it was the police's job to protect people. He didn't want to know what Eric had to feel like. Not only that he was abused, but also that somehow, his stepfather had managed to convince the boy that nobody would believe him, and that going to the police would only make matters worse.

It had taken a long moment of hesitation and a few more encouraging words until Eric had worked up the courage to allow Shawn to steer him through the door and into the hospital room.

Juliet and Gus were still there, and while Shawn had been upstairs in Eric's room his father had also arrived. Eric knew Henry and Gus, and other than a cursory glance he didn't pay that much mind to them, but he froze up completely as his eyes fell on Juliet.

Shawn still had his arm around Eric's shoulder, and he squeezed it encouragingly. "It's all right", he said lowly, so that only Eric would hear.

Juliet smiled at Eric. "Hello, you must be Eric. I'm Juliet."

Eric nodded at her. "I know. Shawn told me." He looked back down to the floor and nervously started twiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. "You're with the police."

Juliet nodded. "That's right."

Upon another squeeze of his shoulder from Shawn, Eric raised his head and looked at Juliet. "Shawn said that you can help people."

Juliet's smile widened a little. "Yes, that's what the police does. If somebody has a problem, we try to help them."

Eric drew a deep breath. "I think I need your help."

Shawn was immensely grateful that Juliet didn't start bombarding Eric with questions. Instead, she got up from her chair and crouched down in front of Eric so that she was at eye-level with him. "Okay."

Eric was a bit startled that it should be so easy. "Okay?"

Juliet nodded. "Okay. If you need help, you'll get it. But I need you to tell me what you need help with."

And then it had all gone really fast. Eric had hummed and hawed a little more, but by posing just the right questions in just the right tone of voice, Juliet got all the answers she needed. She quickly decided to take Eric to the police station before his parents came to fetch him. She placed a call to the Chief, then arranged to have Eric released from hospital into the custody of the police, and not more than fifteen minutes after Eric's plea for help, they were all out of the hospital and on their way to the police station.

Eric hadn't said a word after Juliet had finished asking her questions, but Shawn didn't know what there was that he could say to make it better. Eric still wasn't excited about going to the police station, and he was less than excited about the prospect of meeting his mother and stepfather there, but now that things had gotten in motion, there was no way for him to avoid that. No way for Shawn to spare him the experience. So all he could do was stay by Eric's side throughout the ordeal. It wasn't much, but Shawn figured it was better than nothing.

Besides, for the duration of the car drive, Shawn had quite some problems of his own to deal with. It was only a ten minute drive to the police station, but those ten minutes told him all about the levels of pain his back was able to evoke. Car seats simply weren't designed for people who had just taken a rollercoaster ride without seatbelt underneath a pier. It didn't matter how careful his father was driving, keeping his back away from the car seat was impossible. He was grateful when they finally pulled into the parking lot at the police station and he could get out of the car.

Eric had driven to the station with Henry and Shawn, whereas Gus and Juliet had taken their own cars. It didn't take long until they had all arrived, and with a smile Juliet went over towards Eric.

"All right, let's go in."

Wide blue eyes turned towards Shawn, silently asking if that was really necessary. He tried to smile reassuringly at the boy.

"It's all right Eric, I promise. Besides, Detective O'Hara has a stash of candy bars in her bottom right drawer, if we can distract her somehow we can snatch some of those."

With a gentle hand on Eric's back Shawn turned them towards the entrance and they started climbing the stairs.

"How did you know about the candy bars, Shawn?", Juliet hissed at him from his left side.

Shawn smiled. "I'm a psychic, remember?"

Juliet rolled her eyes at him, and silently they climbed the stairs and went into the station. Shawn noticed that Eric kept his head down after they entered, relying solely on Shawn's hand on his back to guide him.

Finally they reached the back of the station where the offices were located. Chief Vick was just coming out of her office as they approached it.

"Detective O'Hara, there you are." She nodded at the tree men in greeting, then her eyes fell on Eric who still didn't look up from the floor. "And you must be Eric. I'm Karen Vick, I'm the chief of the police here."

Eric looked up at her, but he met her eyes only fleetingly before turning them back on the floor again. Karen turned back towards Juliet.

"We're going to need Eric's statements."

Juliet nodded in response. "I'll take them." She turned back towards Eric and patiently waited until the boy looked up at her. "Remember what we talked about at the hospital, Eric? Those statements I told you I'd needed you to make? Now is the time to make them."

Eric shuffled his feet nervously. "Okay. But first can I…I mean, I need to go. You know…"

Juliet smiled. "Of course. Restrooms are down the hall and then left."

"You want me to come along?"

Eric looked at Shawn with both eyebrows raised. "I've been doing this on my own since I was two. I think I can manage."

He turned around and walked down the corridor. Shawn shrugged, ignoring Henry's and Gus' chuckles. "Well, I'll take it as a good sign that he's getting cocky. But do you think it's wise to leave him alone right now? He has a habit of running."

"Front desk knows that he's not supposed to leave the station", Karen said. "O'Hara, the statement concerning the murder is important, but we have Garner's confession. It's your call, but maybe you'll want to take Eric's statement on his stepfather first. The Robertsons should be here soon, it might be interesting to hear their opinions on his statement."

Juliet nodded, but was spared an answer when Lassiter came over to their little group. He handed Karen one of the two folders he was holding, then his eyes fell on Shawn.

"Spencer."

"Lassie!" Shawn smiled. "So good to see you!"

"I wish I could say the same, but I simply can't."

Shawn scratched his head, a little embarrassedly. He had hoped to have this encounter not in front of the whole police department. "Listen Lassie, about yesterday…you know, the whole thing about pulling me out of the ocean. Thanks for that."

Lassiter looked at Shawn for a moment, his expression so dark that Shawn was worried the detective was contemplating using Shawn as a target for shooting practice. Finally, Lassiter pointed a finger at Shawn.

"I walked around the station in wet clothes all evening. I had to do the suspect interrogation in wet trousers and one of McNabb's T-shirts which read "Cops do it better" across the chest. It was early morning before I got home to change out of my wet clothes. If I so much as get a sneeze because I had to jump into the ocean after you, I'm going to shoot you."

Shawn looked at Lassiter for a long moment, not really knowing what to say. "Erm…all right. But you Irish are pretty resistant against germs, anyway. Aren't you?"

"I'm not Irish", Lassiter growled.

"Oh, but Lassie, that strong hairline has to come from somewhere. Are you sure there wasn't an ancestor from the green island somewhere along the line?"

Lassiter unconsciously raised a hand to his hair, then dropped it quickly as he realised what he was doing. He drew breath to say something in response, but was interrupted when Buzz McNabb came over towards them.

"Chief, Mrs. Robertson is waiting for you in Interrogation Room B."  
Karen frowned. "What about her husband, didn't he come along?"

"Oh yes, he did. I'll bring him to Interrogation Room A in a minute, he just went to the restroom first."

Shawn was running down the corridor even before McNabb finished speaking, the others hurrying after him just a step behind. Not paying any mind to the pain in his shoulder and back from the running, Shawn opened the door to the men's room and ran in.

"…we have to come down for an interrogation? What have you been telling them? Answer me!"

Stan Robertson was standing in front of the cubicles, only inches away from Eric who had cowered himself into the very corner between the wall and the last sink in the line. Stan held the shaking boy in a rough grip by the back of his neck, oblivious to the fact that Eric was shaking and crying, clearly too terrified to answer any kind of question in his current state.

"Hey!", Shawn yelled, stormed over towards the enraged man and roughly pulled him away from Eric. "Take your hands off him!"

Before Stan had the chance to say anything, suddenly Henry was there, grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed him roughly against the opposite wall.

Stan struggled against Henry's hold. "Let go off me! Who do you think you are?", he yelled.

"Obviously, I'm the one who has to tell you to keep your hands off a defenceless child!" Henry growled. Shawn had never heard that tone of voice before, but he was sure that his father had just growled. Shawn placed himself between Stan and Eric, not backing down under the man's glare. He was furious himself right now, if that bastard made only one more move towards Eric, he'd get what was coming to him.

The door to the restroom opened again, and Lassiter and Gus stormed into the room. Lassiter took only one look at the crying boy in the corner, at Shawn standing protectively in front of him, and at Stan, who was still red in his face from yelling at his stepson. Or from the hold Henry's arm had across his throat, it was difficult to say.

"Is the kid all right?"

Shawn turned and looked at Eric, who was still crying so hard that his breaths were coming in sobs and hiccups. He quickly knelt down in front of him and put both his hands on Eric's cheeks.

"Did he hurt you?"

Eric shook his head, still sobbing so hard that he couldn't speak.

"All right, Robertson, I think the two of us need to have a long talk", Lassiter growled, grabbed Robertson by the arm and waited for Henry to release his grip on the other man.

"Henry", Lassiter said calmly when Henry hadn't moved after a few seconds. Henry took a deep breath and stepped back from Stan, watching as Lassiter tightened his grip on the man's arm and pulled him out of the restroom. But Shawn didn't even notice, he had all his attention focussed on Eric.

"Are you all right?"

"He just…suddenly, he was there. I wanted to…call for someone…but…it all went so…so fast…"

"Hey, it's all right Eric. It's all right." Shawn gently pulled the boy towards himself, and Eric immediately wrapped his arms around Shawn's back and buried his head against his shoulder. "It's all right", Shawn mumbled into the boy's hair.

"I was so scared", Eric mumbled.

"He's not going to hurt you anymore, I promise. I won't let him. Okay?"

Eric nodded, his head still leaning into Shawn's shoulder. It was obvious that he didn't intend to let go again anytime soon, so all Shawn could do was ignore the pain in his back and allow the disturbed child to cry into his shoulder. It took a few minutes until Eric had calmed down at least a little and allowed Shawn to withdraw slightly from the embrace.

"Better?"

Eric shrugged, his eyes cast to the floor.

Shawn slowly got back to his feet, suppressing all wincing and groaning as his single body parts protested against the movement. He put an arm around Eric's back and guided him out of the restroom.

"Come on, I think it's time for one of those candy bars in Juliet's desk right now."

Eric allowed Shawn to lead him over to Juliet's desk where he sat down on her chair and passively watched Shawn rummage around in the bottom right drawer until he came up with a Mars bar.

"There you go."

"Thanks", Eric mumbled, but didn't start opening up the wrapping paper. He looked up with wide eyes as steps approached the desk, then sagged a little in relief when he saw that it was only Henry and Gus who had come over towards them.

"Where…where is Stan?", he asked timidly, as if expecting his stepfather to come jumping out from behind a filing cabinet any second now. A small smile spread on Henry's face.

"Don't you worry about him. Detective Lassiter took him to an interrogation room, he's not going to get out of there for quite a while."  
"You really should see this, Shawn", Gus fell in with glee in his voice. "I've never seen Lassiter this furious before, not even that one time when you poured salt into his coffee and put white-out on his bagel. He's questioning Robertson about every single entry in Eric's medical file, in detail. By the time Lassiter's through with him, he's going to wish that he stayed out of Santa Barbara in the first place."

Eric was still twiddling with the candy bar in his fingers. "What's going to happen now?"

"Now you give your statements, just like you and Detective O'Hara talked about in the hospital", Henry said. "And once you've done that, there is no way anybody is going to send back to your mother and that man. You only need to tell her the truth."

Eric nodded. "Okay."

"Where is Jules?", Shawn asked, looking around the room as he didn't find the blonde detective anywhere.

"Karen called her into the interrogation room a moment ago, she should be back soon." Henry uncrossed his arms. "All right, I'm going to get a coffee. Anybody else want one?"

Gus followed Henry into the break room, leaving Shawn and Eric sitting at Juliet's desk.

"Are you really all right?", Shawn asked.

"I just never want to see him again."

Shawn smiled sadly and ran a hand through Eric's hair. "I'm sorry that this happened. But I promise you, if you only tell Juliet the truth about what he's doing to do, things will work out."

"Okay."

A moment later Juliet came back from the interrogation room. In her hand she held a piece of paper, and instead of coming directly towards her desk, she went to McNabb, handed the paper over towards him and said a few words. The younger officer nodded, then sat down and reached for the nearest phone.

Only then did Juliet come over towards her desk. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Are you okay?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. I think so."

"Good. We still need to go through with those statements, though. Do you think you're up for it? It's no problem if you're not, just tell me."

Eric shook his head. "No, it's all right. It's just…do you think that…I mean, could Shawn maybe stay here?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Shawn's mouth at those words. Juliet just nodded. "Sure he can. That way, we can also try and see whether he's really incapable of staying still for more than five minutes."

"Oh come on now, Jules, don't ruin my reputation like that."

Juliet shook her head and pulled out the papers she'd need. "I guess you want this over and done with, Eric." When he just nodded wordlessly, Juliet smiled. "All right, then let's get started."

It took nearly forty minutes to finish Eric's statements on both the murder he had witnessed, which took about ten minutes to bring to paper, and about the abuse he had suffered on the hands of his stepfather. It was half an hour during which Shawn often wished to be somewhere totally else.

All right, so he and his father weren't exactly a role-model in functionality where their relationship was concerned. But it was completely beyond Shawn's comprehension how somebody could do the things Eric told about to a child. Children were annoying at times, granted. But beating them, locking them up, telling them that nobody would believe them anyway if they managed to bring up enough courage to ask for help? That was way beyond what Shawn wanted to understand, and for the first time in his life he was glad that Lassiter was in a foul mood. He'd give Robertson an interrogation from hell, Shawn knew that. It didn't make anything that man had done undone, but it was a very small relief.

When Juliet finally had all the information she needed, Eric seemed to sag in on himself, completely exhausted. Shawn gently squeezed his shoulder.

"You did great, kiddo."

Eric smiled weakly. "I'm tired."

"I can imagine. But it's over now."

Juliet finished signing all the forms she had just filled out, then got up from her chair. "I'll just bring those over to the Chief's office, then we're finished here."

She turned and walked into Vick's office. Vick wasn't there yet, she was still busy interrogating Eric's mother. Shawn watched as Juliet placed the papers on Vick's desk, but just as she left the office again, McNabb hurried over towards her. He held yet again another piece of paper in his hands and gave it to Juliet. After a few exchanged sentences, McNabb left again and Juliet positively bounced back towards her desk.

"What's up?", Shawn asked. "Whatever McNabb has given you just now must have been great news."

Juliet nodded excitedly. "It's great news indeed. Eric, we found your Dad."  
"All the colour drained from Eric's face as he stared at Juliet in disbelief. "You found my father? But…I mean, how? Mom always said she didn't know his name."

"Well, during her conversation with the Chief she remembered enough for us to track him down. McNabb just did that. His name is Collin Redmond, 34 years old, and he's living in Santa Barbara. He left the Army a few years back and runs a small construction business now. We'll be contacting him as soon as possible."

"Does that mean I can go stay with him?" Juliet's excitement seemed to have infected Eric, but upon his words her smile faltered a little. Shawn understood what was going on in her head and he turned towards Eric.

"Not immediately, Eric. If what your Mom said is true then your father doesn't even know you exist. I can imagine that it'll be a bit of a shock for him to hear that he has an eleven year old son. He might need some time to get used to that. I know I would need some time in that situation. And maybe you should meet first before you move in. Give it a little time, Eric."

It hurt Shawn to see the excited and joyful expression on Eric's face falter, but suddenly their attention was drawn by the slamming of the door. Lassiter came storming down the corridor, wordlessly went into the break room, filled a cup with coffee and stepped out again.

"Are you all right, Carlton?", Juliet asked with a worried frown. "Is your interrogation already finished?"

Lassiter shook his head. "No. But I needed a break, before I do something I might not even regret later. That…that man is just…" His eyes fell on Eric and he fell silent. "I just needed a break, O'Hara."

Without another word, Lassiter downed the coffee, put the cup onto his desk, then went back into the interrogation room. Once he had vanished, Eric turned towards Shawn.

"But if I can't go to my father, and if I don't have to go back to Los Angeles, where will I stay?"

"Well", Juliet said with a sad smile. "We're going to have to inform Child Protective Services of the situation. It's an organisation which takes care of children who can't stay with their parents any longer. They're going to find a place for you to stay until everything is figured out with your father."  
Eric's eyes grew wide again. "I'm going to have to go to some strangers? But what if…what if they're just like Stan? What if they don't like me?"

Shawn gently squeezed Eric's shoulder and slowly, with much wincing involved, got up from his chair. He took a few steps away from the desk and gestured for Juliet to follow.

"Do you really have to hand him over to Child Protective Services?"

Juliet sighed. "Shawn, I don't like it either. But fact is, Eric has to stay somewhere until everything with his father is figured out. Most probably, he's going to ask for a paternity test to make sure that Eric is his son, and that's going to take a few days, at the least. So even if we get a judge to transfer custody quickly, it'll take about a week to arrange everything. Where do you suppose Eric should stay in the meantime?"

Shawn smiled. "Oh, I already have an idea."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"All right, this here is your room for the time being. It's my old bedroom", Shawn said as he put Eric's backpack down on his old bed in Henry's house.

"And where are you going to stay?"

Shawn shrugged. "I'll take the sofa downstairs."

"Isn't that uncomfortable? You really don't need to do this."

Shawn smiled. "I'd be sleeping on the sofa even if you were staying in my apartment. Besides, I can only sleep on my right side, anyway, so I can as well take the sofa. It won't get any more uncomfortable by that. And this is far more practical because my Dad is home for nearly the entire day, so somebody is always around."

"And Shawn can't cook, so this is his excuse for mooching as many dinners as he can within the next few days", Henry's voice sounded from the direction of the door. "If there's anything else you need, Eric, you just need to tell me."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You never said that to me."  
"You've never been a guest in this house."

Shawn turned back towards Eric. "Speaking of house, if nearly forgot. There's only one rule to living in my Dad's house. No open fire anywhere. He's very insistent on that rule."  
"Shawn, you know exactly how that rule came into being, and why it only applies to you. I highly doubt that Eric would even consider trying to set the house on fire."

"I didn't try to set the house on fire", Shawn defended himself. "I was _six_. How was I supposed to know that a shower curtain wasn't flameproof?"

"Oh, I don't know Shawn. Common sense maybe?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You must have forgotten to ingrain that in me, Dad. Besides, it was you who kept the lighter lying around, it was practically an invitation to try it out." He turned back towards Eric. "He still gets nervous when somebody lights an open flame in the house, so just try to avoid that."

Eric frowned, but nodded. "I think that won't be a problem."

"Good, very good. Now Dad, what's for dinner?"

Henry just rolled his eyes and wordlessly vanished down the stairs. Eric turned towards Shawn. "Is he really all right with me staying here until that whole thing about my Dad is resolved?"

Shawn smiled. "He offered it, Eric. It's all right, really."

"Really?"

Shawn grinned. "Really. And now we'd better get downstairs and see what's for dinner. Just ignore him when he gets grumpy. Or use that trick I taught you."

Eric frowned and thought for a moment. "Ask him about fishing?"

"Exactly. Works all the time. Now come along, before he gets the stupid idea of maybe cooking greens or sprouts or any other health food for dinner."  
"I like greens. And sprouts. They're good."

Shawn looked at Eric for a moment, then he put an arm around the boy's shoulders and guided him out the room. "You still have a lot to learn, my young friend. We don't have much time, but I will do my best to pass on my wisdom to you."

Eric regarded Shawn for a moment, his gaze more than just sceptical, then he slowly nodded. "Sure. But maybe we should just have dinner first."

Shawn grinned. "Now you're speaking my language. What are we waiting for?"

And before Eric had a chance to reply, Shawn was already steering him down the stairs and towards the kitchen.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Three men, a boy and a dog**

A bit more than two months had passed since Shawn had first caught Eric in the Psych office, and life was back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever got in the vicinity of Shawn Spencer.

That day at the station, Chief Vick and Lassiter had interviewed Eric's mother and stepfather for nearly six hours total. Both had gone over Eric's medical records with them, in detail, again and again. It hadn't taken long for the small observation room between the two interrogation rooms to fill with officers who had heard of what was going on and who didn't want to miss their Chief and Head Detective in action. The Chief's mood after the interview had been sour. Holly Robertson had finally confessed to not having stopped her husband from beating Eric, but according to her statement the beatings had been both, sporadic and for educational purposes. Eric had brought it upon himself with his constant disobediences. For the rest of the day, nobody had dared to approach the Chief in fear of being the spark that made her explode.

Lassiter's mood after his interview had been…unearthly. From another realm. So dark that black didn't cut it anymore to describe it. Stan Robertson had been far more resistant in his denial of ever having hit Eric, but especially after the scene Lassiter had witnessed in the restroom, denial hadn't been an option for long. The difference between what Robertson admitted to and what Eric had said in his statement was still large enough to fit in the Grand Canyon, but it was all Lassiter was able to get out of him without resorting to physical violence. And it was more than enough to have Child Protective Services take away custody from Eric's mother and stepfather immediately.

The next day, Lassiter came down with the flu.

Now, personally Shawn thought that a little fever was actually cleansing once in a while, but though he'd never admit it, he was quite glad that staying at his Dad's place with Eric gave him a good excuse not to go down to the police station for a while. He didn't really think Lassiter would shoot him. Not in broad daylight and in the middle of the police station, anyway. But there was no harm done in being careful.

And actually staying at his Dad's wasn't half bad. There was a lot less yelling involved while there was a kid around. Maybe Shawn should check into the possibility of having grandchildren in the near future, just for the sake of stopping his father from yelling. Or better yet, Gus could have the children, and Shawn could borrow them whenever he needed his father in a pacified mood. It still needed some thinking through, but Shawn saw some possibilities there.

It was Juliet who finally broke the news to Eric's father. As could be expected, Collin Redmond was shocked by the news, to say the least. He immediately remembered Holly Robertson and their affair from twelve years back, but from what Juliet told it had been obvious that he had never expected for a child to have come out of this short affair. So the first thing he had done had been demanding a paternity test. It had come back positive, and suddenly Collin Redmond, 34 years and just eighteen months divorced after a five year long, childless marriage, had found himself a father of an eleven year old boy.

More than once, Shawn had caught himself thinking what he would do if he was in Redmond's place. He'd like to tell himself that he'd be totally open-minded and prepared before such an occurrence, but truth be told, he'd probably be just as overwhelmed by all the implications as Redmond had been.

But after a day of getting used to the idea, Redmond had been ready and willing to take Eric in. It was far easier said than done. Shawn and Henry had both been there when Eric's father had come for the first meeting with his son, and it had been awkward. Not bad, but awkward. After all, what did you talk about with your son respectively father if you met them for the first time? Shawn had known his father all his life, and at times he found it hard to find something to talk about with him.

But it had gotten better with every meeting between the two, and after two weeks of making all the necessary arrangements, Child Protective Services had agreed that nothing stood in the way of transferring Eric into his father's care.

Eric had called a couple of times after that, to tell how he was settling in, and he had sounded pretty optimistic that things were working out.

And pretty soon, real life had caught up with Shawn again. There was of course the plan to meet up with Eric again, and sooner rather than later, but as Henry had pointed out and Shawn had grudgingly agreed, it might be best to give Eric and his father some time to get used to one another first. Eric knew that he could always call Shawn if anything was wrong, so giving the two a couple of weeks to get used to each other didn't sound like a bad idea.

By the time Eric moved in with his father, Shawn could sleep on his back again. Which was a good thing, because he was sure that after two weeks of sleeping the whole night on his right side, his shoulder had left a permanent indentation on his father's sofa. He'd rather not have that happening with his own mattress.

But while his back might be healed, his left shoulder was another story entirely. The world's biggest bruise was changing its colour daily, and it took four whole weeks until he could move his left arm again without being immediately reminded of the mother of all bruises.

Around that time Shawn and Gus got their first case form Chief Vick again and real life was catching up again with them. Though Shawn was fairly sure that the first time he and Lassiter met again, the head detective's glare was worse than usual, and his hand strayed uncomfortably close to his shoulder holster. But that could have been his imagination.

Since then Shawn and Gus had solved two more cases for the SBPD. Neither had been high profile, but they had both been easily solved and not dangerous, for a change.

And now Shawn and Gus were sitting in the office, and while Gus was catching up on what he still insisted on calling his "first job", Shawn was flipping through the pages of the most recent issue of _Sports Illustrated_. It was a peaceful afternoon. Well, at least it started out as one.

"Shawn, have you seen my memory stick?"

Shawn looked up from his magazine to face Gus across the office. "Is that another cute little nickname for one of your body parts? The _Memory Stick_? Like the _Super Smeller_?"

"And how do you suppose that should work? I misplaced a body part and now I can't find it?"

Shawn shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. Like people giving nicknames to their noses, for instance."

Gus rolled his eyes with a sigh. "No, it's not one of my body parts. I'm searching for my flashdrive, Shawn. You know, the little stick you put into one of the USB ports of your computer to store files on them? I know it was here on my desk, and now it's gone."

"Maybe you should give the _Super Smeller_ some exercise then, see if you can pick up a trace of your flashdrive."

"Shawn!"

Shawn raised his hands innocently. "What? I'm just trying to help here."

"Sure you are."

At that moment, there was a knock on the office door, breaking up the argument.

"Come in!", Gus called, and a moment later Collin Redmond came into the office.

"Collin", Shawn greeted, somewhat surprised. "Where's Eric? Is anything wrong?"

Collin shook his head with a smile. "Nothing's wrong. He's outside, taking Buster for a walk. I told him to stay within sight, though."  
Shawn turned his chair and truly, out of the large window he could see Eric on the beach promenade, an enthusiastic young Labrador tugging at the leash in his hand, his other hand holding a still empty clear plastic baggie.

Shawn grinned. "Seems as if those two hit it off."

Collin was still watching his son through the window. "Yeah, they for sure did. I can't tell you how glad I am that I didn't say no when my friend Chris gave me one of his puppies a couple of months back. By now, Eric has replaced me as Buster's alpha male and there's not a thing I can do about it." There was a smile on his face as he said the words. As he tore his gaze away from his son and looked back at Shawn, his expression turned a little more serious.

"Anyway, the reason why I asked Eric to stay out for a few more minutes is that I wanted to talk to you."

Shawn frowned, but gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. "Sure. Sit down, Collin. What's up?"

Collin sat down and nervously twisted his hands. "What with all that's been going on when we first met, I never got around to thank you."

Shawn waved the thanks off. "No need to thank me for anything, really."

"Yes, I think there is Shawn. Not everybody would have done what you did for Eric. I'm only slowly getting used to the idea that I even have a son. There are days when I still wake up and ask myself whether I only dreamed it up or not. And if it hadn't been for you, I'd probably still not know that Eric ever existed. You saved his life, I'm not going to forget that."

Shawn shook his head again. "I'm glad I could help Eric. It's good to see that he's enjoying himself again."

"Yes, that he is. At least when he's out with Buster."

"And how is the rest working out?"

Collin shrugged. "We're getting there. Slowly, but I didn't expect anything else. Eric is seeing a trauma specialist once a week, and she told me that he's starting to open up. Though it might still be a while until he trusts me enough to talk about what that bastard of a stepfather did to him. But we're doing well enough on the everyday stuff so far. Eric started school two weeks ago, and he already hates his math teacher, which tells me he's starting to settle in. He's playing basketball at school and is starting to make friends. Sometimes it's hard though. Just a few days ago he dropped a plate as he helped me with the dishes. Next thing I know, he's putting up his hands as if to protect himself from the blows he expects to follow. It's…not exactly easy to deal with." He shook his head and smiled. "But we have help, that makes it easier. There's his therapist, and a great lady from Social Services who doesn't treat me like a total imbecile if I have a question about how to raise my kid." He shrugged. "It's not easy, but I think we're getting there. I'm just worried about what'll happen once we have our first fight. I think I'm a little scared he might run away again."

Shawn shook his head. "I don't think he will. It took him eleven years to run away from a man who was abusing him, I don't think he'll run away from somebody who treats him right just because of a fight. And he knows he can always call Gus, my Dad or me if there is anything bothering him. So I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Collin smiled. "I'm starting to learn that worrying is a big part of being a father." He chuckled. "That and knowing how to cook. Surviving on takeout is over now."

"The kid loves greens and sprouts, it's scary."

Collin laughed. "Yeah, that it is. But he's also not averse to pizza, so I'm still getting by while I'm learning how to cook healthy food." He looked out the window again to see Eric approaching the office, dog still on the leash but now without the plastic baggie. "But here he comes. I promised I let him tell you why we dropped by."

A moment later the door opened again and Eric came hurrying in, the dog pulling him right towards Gus' desk. Gus immediately rolled his chair back and raised his arms defensively.

"Whoa!"

"Don't worry, he doesn't bite", Collin threw in from the side.

"Famous last words", Gus mumbled and kept his distance even as Eric pulled the leash.

"Buster, sit!"

The Labrador obediently sat down by Eric's feet, and with a proud grin the boy looked up at Shawn and Gus.

"Hey Shawn, hey Gus!"

"Eric, how are you?", Shawn said as he got up from his chair and walked over towards the boy. There was a universal code between men everywhere, no matter if they were boys or grown up, and that was that hugging was reserved for moments of emotional distress and awkward celebratory back-patting. So he silently stretched out his fist and with a grin Eric bumped his own fist against it.

"I'm good. How's the shoulder?"

Shawn stretched the collar of his polo with a finger to reveal part of the bruising, which by now had taken on a mostly greenish-yellow shade. Eric grimaced.

"Gross. Is that normal? Looks as if it was rotting."

"Eric", Collin said good-naturedly, but Shawn just shrugged.

"Doctor says it's normal. But I've been keeping a bruise diary with my camera. I took a picture of the bruise every day, I'm thinking about making a flip-book once it's finished. I'm going to send you a copy once it's finished, but that might still take a little while. For now, I'm still storing pictures."

He picked up a little device from his desk and waved it in front of Eric for demonstration.  
"Hey, that's my flashdrive!", Gus threw in from the side.

"Is it? Really? So that's what a flashdrive looks like. Wow, I never knew."

"Shawn, my client files are on that flashdrive. If you've erased something, I swear, you're dead meat."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I haven't erased anything, Gus. Really. Trust me. I've just compressed some files, but it's all safe. At least that's what the site from which I downloaded the compressing programme said. By the way, what does it mean if that little symbol-thingie from the virus check starts flashing red?"

"Shawn!" Gus got up from his chair, murder in his eyes.

Shawn decided to change tactics and turned back towards Eric. "Collin said you wanted to tell us something?"

Eric's grin widened. "Yes. It's my birthday on Saturday, and we're going to have a barbeque. Some guys from my new school will be there, and it's be great if you guys would come, too. And your Dad. And if you want, you can bring that lady-cop."

Shawn frowned. "Why do you think I'd want to bring Juliet?"

Eric rolled his eyes as if he was forced to explain the obvious. "Because you like her."

Gus snorted, but managed to turn it into a cough as Shawn threw a withering glare into his direction.

"We'll be there, Eric. And I'll tell my Dad, I'm sure he'll come, too. It's not as if he was on a tight schedule. What time shall we come around?"

"At four."

"Sure." Shawn smiled. "We'll be there. However, I cannot guarantee that Gus won't be paralysed with fear of the bloodhound for the entire day."

"Shawn!"

Shawn ignored his best friend. "So we'll see you Saturday."

"Great!" Eric's smile widened and he held out his fist again. Shawn bumped it and ruffled across Eric's hair. It was obvious that the eleven year old was trying to bear that with as much dignity as he could, but still he grimaced. Shawn just grinned.

"Right", Collin said. "We have to go, otherwise you'll miss basketball training. I'll see you two on Saturday, then. And thanks again, for everything."

"You're welcome. See you Saturday."  
"Yes, see you Saturday." Gus added.

"Buster, come on", Eric said, and quickly followed the enthusiastic Labrador out of the office, his father in tow.

Shawn looked after them for a moment, and as the two got into their car and pulled out of the parking lot, he turned towards Gus.

"Buster."

Gus frowned. "What?"

"Buster. I'm wondering why I never came up with that one."

Gus still didn't understand. "Shawn, you never had a dog. Or any animal you needed to name, for that matter."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Not for a dog, Gus. For you."

"For me?"

"Yes. I mean, come on. Burton Guster…Buster. Guster the Buster. Oh man, what a fun I could have had with that one in high school."

"You had plenty of fun at my expense in high school, you didn't need to make fun of my name for that. And don't think I've forgotten about you stealing my flashdrive. Give it back right now and pray that you haven't lost any of the files for good."

Shawn only shook his head. "We have other problems right now."

"Oh yes? And what should those be?"

"We need to find a birthday present for Eric." Quickly, Shawn grabbed Gus' keys from his friend's desk and turned towards the door. "Come on Buster, we're on a mission!"

Gus rolled his eyes and quickly hurried out of the office after his friend.


End file.
